Quit if you ever wanted to

Last month, my father died and I buried him on the 15th of February. Words cannot adequately express the profound grief and sorrow I am experiencing however I would like to share with you events that occurred in the last few months. 

In late January, I received a call from my uncle who said my father had been diagnosed with lung cancer and the prognosis was not good. I already had a flight booked for mid-February and was under the assumption I still had ample time until I received another call at 4am on the 8th of February from uncle who said I needed to come quick - I was on a plane to Australia at 1pm that same day. 

Before I started packing I called a family friend who was very fortunately with dad at the time. She put me on speaker phone so I could talk to him and I told him I had a flight in a few hours and asked him to wait for me, he said he would. I arrived in Canberra on Monday the 10th of February and went straight to see him. We talked and joked a little even though he was very weak. I saw him again that evening and the following morning as I was waiting in the airport with my uncle for his flight back home, we received a call from the hospital. My uncle and I didn't know why but we both knew it wasn't good and drove from the airport straight to hospital. We went directly to the room where dad was and he wasn't there any more, we were told he'd been moved upstairs. By this stage I was trembling and weeping uncontrollably but still hoping for the best. Once we arrived upstairs I asked the doctor what was going on and all I can remember was, "Your father has passed away" before I lost control of my feet and fell on to the floor. The doctor and uncle picked me up and we went into the room where his body lie. He couldn't of died longer than 15 minutes before our arrival as he was still warm. It was at this point where uncle and I cried and cried and cried.

I spent all day with his body, grieving. I spoke to him as I washed his face and fixed his hair. Uncle and I remained with him until he turned fully cold. My grandmother and brother came in briefly to say goodbye and watching my grandma say goodbye to her son was easily one of the most difficult things I have ever witnessed in my life. Uncle and I were there for so long that when a nurse came in to wash him for the second time after telling us we had all the time in the world, I told her to leave and not come back until she was asked to.

The rest of the week I was in some kind of stupour. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. I couldn't think straight. I was crying uncontrollably and I was having incredibly strange and violent thoughts. Yet somehow, in the midst of this, I managed to organise and coordinate an entire funeral ceremony: rosary, funeral, burial and wake. I have no idea how as I am certain I was running on pure adrenalin alone and there is a ridiculous amount of work involved in such things, from organising flowers to writing the eulogy, to notifying the public, food at the wake...the list goes on.

I spoke to a friend on Friday night who recently lost his mother and he told me it was a rite of passage that all of us must go through. Of course, I agree with him but that doesn't dull the pain or effectively console the soul in such times but he certainly did say something that made a lot of sense. I asked him how long it takes until it stops hurting so much and he said the death of a parent is like an acid trip - it comes in waves and I couldn't agree with him more. There are days when I am okay and return to feeling somewhat normal but then there are the bad days.

The one thing I was surprised to find comforting was going to the viewing. I requested a private viewing the evening before the funeral so I could say my final goodbyes to dad. I took with me what you see in the picture to the right: flowers from my grandmothers garden, a card, some fishing gear, flowers from N and a lock of mine and my grandmothers hair. I arranged the flowers around dad's head and body in the coffin, I placed the fishing gear, card and grandmothers hair in dad's pocket and I tied the lock of my hair around his fingers. I made various promises to dad and I was the last person to see his body as I placed the coffin lid on and sealed it shut. This in itself was an incredibly cathartic time and I felt purged of some of the weight and agony I felt inside. To anyone facing a funeral, I would very strongly recommend you consider attending the viewing - this is something you must arrange yourself and it is absolutely within your rights to do so. It will be extremely difficult but do it if you can. I was also a pallbearer and I helped lower his coffin into the ground to lie with my mother.

More than anything though, I am just so grateful that dad waited for me like he said he would, it is a testament to the person he really was. I wish it didn't happen and the pain is tremendous but there's nothing that can be done. He's left a hole that will never heal so I just ask those that know me to be patient with me over the coming months - I may be a little sensitive towards smokers in particular. If you ever wanted to quit - now is the time. The end is not a pretty or easy one and the consequences are simply not worth it. The cancer had spread from his lung to throat, stomach, brain and bone marrow. He could barely breathe. He couldn't eat. He couldn't even stand or use the bathroom - he was only 66 years old.

Now he's gone and all I have left are memories. I love you Daddy.