Dear GBG, Heaven
I am going to miss you a lot, you were a big star to me and the rest of our family. I wish there was something I could do. Somehow I feel responsible for your death (he'd quarrelled with his mum that night and felt guilty). I wish you were still here. If you were still here I would be hugging you for weeks non-stop. Bye. I will think about you every day.
Neil's youngest - Bethany, who is 7 - had been funny when Lisa told her about Dad dying. Lisa had been explaining that when one person dies, another is born. Beth totally got the wrong idea and said "Well mum, when you have the baby, can we call it Great Big Grandad?" How cute, and how innocent.
I am now having to write this blog retrospectively, as during the week between Dad's death and his funeral, there was a lot to do, and little time to concentrate on blogging.
Actually, in terms of what had to be done, things went really smoothly - we just kind of got caught up in what other people instigated. One action would trigger another, and before we knew it, everything was arranged.
It was a week in which we laughed and cried in equal measure - and often both at the same time.
Thursday 28th June:
I had a couple of small brandies last night before bed and so I slept well. Although I did find that all week my moments of waking between sleep were filled with thoughts and visions of Dad's final moments. All I could picture was the breathing and heartbeat and how it all changed and then stopped.
I got up early today and felt restless. So I went into Dad's room and continued tidying away things... sorting out stuff for washing and so on. When I disentangled his headphones from their usual home (draped over the hoist stand) and put them away I started to sob.
Mum got up, and Lorraine came round. I'd left Dad's window open and his door propped ajar (as he'd liked it open all the time he spent at home in bed). We all stood in his room (Lorraine had asked me what I'd done in there) and Mum commented that it was freezing cold in there. There was a cold wind blowing in. We went into the lounge for coffee and a chat. About half an hour later, I went back into Dad's room. It felt warm. No wonder - the radiator in the room was on full blast... which was strange as it hadn't worked since about December! I asked Lol and Mum if they'd put it on. No, they hadn't. Spooky - I looked up to the skies and yelled "Stop freaking us out Dad, we don't like it". We all laughed.
Later on that day, Neil spoiled the spooky story by explaining that the radiator had it's own thermostat... and seeing as how the room was now empty for the first time in ages, with no people moving around it and a cold wind blowing in... then it had switched itself on. Ah well, I prefer to think it was Dad, playing with us!!
I'd sorted all Dad's medications, dressings, pads and a variety of other items - bags and bags of it - into three piles. Pile 1, Paul returned to the Pharmacist for us. Pile 2 was going back to the District Nurses as they'd be able to make use of it. Pile 3 was stuff I thought we could keep and use ourselves if necessary. I should point out at this stage that the morphine all went back to the chemist! We kept only a few things like cough linctus and paracetomol.
I called Gail, the District Nurse who had told us Dad had very little time left. I assumed that the Night Nurses would have informed her that he'd passed, but they hadn't. She seemed upset. She said that Dad's passing would leave a big hole in their working day. Brian, the Head Nurse called round to see us later that morning. He collected all the stuff (joking that he'd need a van) and then we had a little chat and thanked him and his team for their support and care of Dad. He commented that we'd all been part of the team, too, and that we'd given great care also. That was nice to hear.
Thinking back on last night, I should have mentioned that about 5 minutes after Dad died, we were all by his bed and somebody commented that Dad had the death he deserved - peaceful and lovely. I blurted out "It's still not bloody fair though!" and started to cry. Next day I was surprised at that - we never spoke in that kind of language during Dad's illness... it felt negative and un-productive to do so. I think I was being selfish in saying it - thinking of my own loss, and not Dad. I'm not beating myself up here, just reflecting on why I had such an outburst.
We arranged for somebody to collect all Dad's equipment - the bed, wheelchair commode, hoist and sling etc. and they said they'd do it tomorrow (Friday). Good - we don't want that stuff hanging around too long.
The Funeral Director called to offer us a choice of date/time for Dad's cremation. We chose Thursday 5th July at 11am. Dad had asked us to have a late morning service so that everybody could go straight to the pub afterwards. We provisionally booked the Victoria Inn in Rainhill for after the funeral service.
Later today, Lorraine and I were back in Dad's room, stripping the bed, when we opened his wardrobe for something... I think we were looking for something that he could wear in his coffin. A lovely maroon shirt caught my eye - I pulled it out, saying "I liked Dad in this, I think he wore it at Christmas". As I did, I noticed something in the breast pocket. It was the tickets for the jazz concert I'd been to with Dad in January - the last time he ever went out before he was sent to hospital. I started to cry (again!) and Lorraine consoled me.
Mum was amazing today - all the people she had to telephone and tell what had happened. I didn't hear her break down at all. In fact, she must have been sick of looking at Lorraine and I crying - one of us kept setting the other one off! I think mum was still much comforted by how peaceful Dad's passing was. The real impact probably won't hit her for a little while.
I also was pondering on how things would have been if this had all happened 12 months ago when I was working. It doesn't bear thinking about. I am so grateful to have been there for mum and dad these last 5 months.
Friday 29th June:
This morning, Lorraine and I went to register Dad's death... you have to have an appointment to do it, so we booked in at 10.30am. It took about 20 minutes.
We were driving about today and talking about the scattering of Dad's ashes in Yewtree Cemetery (mum's family plot). We both commented that we couldn't remember how to get there and I was about to say "Don't worry, Dad will know the way" and had to stop myself.
The Funeral Director came to see us to make proper arrangements for next week. All pretty straightforward, really. We were having a discussion on whether to seal the coffin or not. We didn't know if anybody would want to visit Dad, none of us planned to go to the Chapel of Rest as we were happy that we'd said our goodbyes etc. As we dithered around, Paul (the undertaker) pushed us for a decision and said "I'm getting to the stage where I have to deal with Keith now". It made my stomach lurch. I hadn't thought of the practical side of it all. Anyway, we opted for a closed coffin in the end.
I think I mentioned a while back that Dad had asked me to call in on some friends of his from the gym, to explain why he'd not been there since January. I could never catch them in. Lorraine and I went again earlier, and decided to leave a note through the door. This evening, Doris (the lady of the couple) phoned Lorraine to say they'd got the note. They've been away for a long while but her son had picked up the note and contacted her. They were so sorry about Dad and spoke really well of him - Doris said that "all the ladies had been asking where that nice big man had gone". She quickly followed up and said that all the men had been asking, too! Dad had gathered a little circle of acquaintances at his gym - folk who he'd chat with in the steam room, jacuzzi or changing rooms.
I see lots of posts from distraught people on the Macmillan site claiming that they can't cope without their fathers, and that they'll never get over their loss. It kind of makes me feel bad because I know I will cope without my dad. I'd rather not have to, but I know I will be ok in the long run.
Saturday 30th June:
This morning, Paul and Joe went to our house and collected Dad's double bed (we'd stored it there when his hospital bed arrived) and Roy. We spent the day putting Dad's room finally back to "normal".
Mum, Lorraine and I met Mark Wynn, the methodist minister who would be conducting Dad's service. He was a lovely guy and stayed for ages chatting to us. He said he'd liked to have met Dad, and I wondered why we didn't think to organise that while we could. Never mind.
Neil and the kids came over today. They are so funny... they played really nice and wanted to go into Dad's room to see the jigsaw and just generally have a nose around. I think they're eyeing up Dad's possessions and I promised to let them choose something as a keepsake in a couple of weeks time. They were asking me if Mum was ok. Beth was saying that Grandad was better now, but he was dead!
As they left, Jack (who wrote the letter at the top of this page) was looking at mum and hanging back at the door. I could see on his face an expression of: what can I do to make things better for Nana? Next thing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out some fake money they'd been given by one of their aunties - he peeled off three "fifty pound notes" and gave one to Mum. Then he came round the room and gave one each to Roy and myself! Bless him, he is such a caring child.
Later today, Roy and I drove home. We picked up takeaway curry and stayed in watching tv. Not much else happened - we'd done so well with funeral arrangements that we didn't need to "work" over the weekend.
Sunday 1st July:
Our second wedding anniversary! The weather was shocking, so the planned walk and Sunday lunch was scrapped in favour of a shopping trip for my funeral outfit and dinner this evening at the Beehive. Thinking about it, Dad died right in between Lorraine's wedding anniversary and mine. Not that it is significant. He also died the day after Joe (my nephew and his grandson) sat his last A Level exam. Also not significant. I don't think.
Monday 2nd July:
Signing on day. The Job Centre has bouncers on the door and a dress code. This never fails to amuse me.
Got to Widnes at 11.20. I had an appointment for a neck and shoulder massage at the Cancer Support Centre. I was late, but Tana still did it for me. Chatted with Dee (the "manager" there) and I also booked their respite caravan for a week from 14th July. It looks lovely, but goodness knows what the weather will be like!
http://www.aberconwypark.com/Aberconwy2004/Park/beach.htm
Lorraine and I went to the florists, where we picked out our flowers for Thursday. The florist was funny... he kept telling us not to go mad and not to spend too much. Here's a picture of him holding a display identical to the one we've ordered for mum. (pic to be inserted!)
We also went to Dooleys funeral home to drop off the music for the service, and Jack's letter to Dad (which we've asked them to pop in his coffin). And then we decided on the format for our memorial card and sent off draft wording and photos to the printer.
I spent a little bit of time later on sorting through Dad's folder with all his "stuff" in it... insurance, pension, bank account - stuff like that. I'll be helping mum to get everything stopped, transferred, paid out etc. I had to chuckle - you can tell that Dad was left handed because he's put everything in the folder back to front! Well, back to front to me!
It is so quiet now in Mum's house. All the time, I'm missing the noise of 2 tv's going, the carers and nurses coming in, and the constant popping in and out to see Dad.
I'm sleeping in Dad's room tonight. As I sat on the bed, I looked around and I tried to put myself in his shoes... how he had only this room as his "world" for four months. It would have driven me crazy. Dad was a tough guy.
Tuesday 3rd July:
Here my notes stop (I'd been scribbling them in a pad) and so I rely on my appalling memory to complete the blog. Today, we spent ages in Trafford Park shopping mall and we sorted out Lorraine's and Mum's outfits for Thursday. I bought a new one. I now have a choice between three! I'm going to opt for the red linen suit I bought today. Nice and colourful - just what Dad wanted.
Mark, the Deacon, sent me this email in response to me providing a copy of Dad's Eulogy.
Dear Jan
trust this finds you & yours well
just received your e-mail
many thanks for the personal memories of dad's life
further evidence of what a lovely family you all are
i get to meet lots of families at such sad times & i can assure you that you Almans are very very special.
& i really mean that
with every blessing
Mark
Wednesday 4th July:
A day of finalising plans, contacting people about tomorrow's arrangements and putting the last touches to the Eulogy. Joan, Zodie and David (my cousin, her hubby and brother) came to visit tonight and we had a good chat and laugh with them. I'd been over to Leeds to pick up Roy this afternoon, as he was rained off work early. An early night. Big day tomorrow.
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