My inspiration, my hero, my saviour, my friend, my Dad. He told me lot’s, but showed me so much more.
This waiting vigil is the chance to say many things, engage in small talk, hopefully, expectantly looking for any sign of understanding. Most of the time is spent listening to Dad’s laboured breathing, daring to stare into his beautiful blue, sometimes open, often distant eyes, imagining recognition. His usually strong grip is fading fast.
Extended family drift in and out, as do kind healthcare professionals. One of my sisters is here. I miss my son terribly. I tell Dad all about him. He seems to enjoy that.
It’s not yet time for the end, yet I must say my goodbyes now. I count myself very lucky to be here.
I should have called him more often. Call your Dad.
Update: Dad passed away peacefully, and how lucky was I to be by his side.
I only found out 4 years ago, after my Mum’s death, that this extraordinary man actually adopted me when I was less than 1.
I never had cause to doubt that he was my father, such was his commitment to being the best Dad possible.
I love you Dad.