Word of the week - Dad

It was my father's birthday on Monday.

He would've been 87.

I can't comprehend my father being 87 as he died aged 77, 2 months short of his birthday.

This is the 10th birthday I haven't been able to buy him a card or a gift or visit him.

Not a day goes past where he's not talked about or thought about.

At the football. When I talk to or see the grandchildren. When I sit at his desk in our home. When I go up into the loft room and see the piles of stuff I still have to sort through or when I use one of the stamps from his collection on an envelope. 

Our home and travels and lives are full of memories of my father.

Of course I miss him and there are so many things I still want to tell him and still want to ask him.

But I'm at peace with that now. I was at peace with that when he died. We'd had a good few days. We'd had a good afternoon the day he'd died. 

I was with him when he died. He's still with me now.

Birthdays no longer celebrated

It would've been my Father's 85th birthday on the 7th of September. He died aged 77.

This is one of my favourite photo's taken of the two of us.

He used to moan about me taking photos and putting them on 'that internet' then he'd ask all day if we had any likes and 'how many?'

I took this photo on the Sunday on our last day out together, he died on the Tuesday. I'm so grateful for the those last 3 days we spent together. I'm so grateful for being in the UK when he died. But I'll be honest, I'm still not grateful, 7 years on, that I was there when he died.

It would've been my Gran's 115th birthday on the 14th of September. She died in 2006, one month after her 92nd birthday. This photo was taken on her 90th birthday. She's pictured here with my Father and my Uncles. They both died aged 66, in 2011 and 2016.

September is a sad month for me remembering my father and my gran. I still go to pick things up for them for their birthdays. The clock I bought my father for his birthday the year he died and I never got to give him has finally stopped working.

The second hand stopped working a month ago. I need to chuck it out, I don't want to be a hoarder like he was.

I still have the card, which sadly came true, along with emptying the sheds, the attic and several rooms.

There are times I pick up tea towels as souvenirs to give my gran, but put them back with a little sadness that she is no longer with us to give them to her, but I still use the tea towels she had daily, the tea towels she had pinned to the kitchen cupboard door that were given as gifts for her.

Whilst I feel sad, I'm also grateful to have these wonderful people in my life for as long as I did. For my children to have had a great grandmother they can remember spending time with and for them to have had a grandfather in their adult lives.

How I'm grieving one year on since my fathers death

I thought we'd got through all the 1sts since my father died suddenly on July 11th last year, until my birthday on June 26th, the moment my mum walked into the coffee shop that morning. Last year my father was with her. Of course there is still the anniversary of his death to get through and then the funeral 2 weeks later. Then we're done or are we?

For me, my start to the summer is mimicking last years UK trip. Helping the teen find somewhere to live, visiting child 4 to say good bye before he went away to work  and typing up 1000's of names on a data base for a charity in South Africa. Mum and I even visited the Speech House for afternoon tea where I took this photo.

The same place this one was taken 3 days before my father died.

As an expat my greatest fear was not being able to be there for my parents and my children should there be an emergency and not being able to get there in time to say our last goodbyes. Travelling for nearly 20 hours back in 2012 from South Africa with no way of communicating was traumatic, not knowing if by the time I arrived at the hospital my father would've have survived his surgery or not.

After that trip, every subsequent trip I made then became my most feared trip. As much as I enjoyed the time with the family, the moment I arrived I was fully aware that I was already dreading the goodbyes, the last hugs, the last kisses and the last words, knowing that at some point in time and soon, I would be coming back to the UK with the full knowledge that my father would no longer be there.

My father was a very opinionated man and ran commentary on every situation in life, he would wind me up to the point of an argument, with neither side backing down. We both viewed the world as explorers, we shared a love of sport, particularly football, but we viewed life from different vantage points, his mostly from the 'good old days' mine from the present.

The last few weeks of my fathers life were special, we talked so much, we did things together, we always did, there were arguments of course during that time, but I have no regrets, no words left unspoken, no words spoken regretted.

On the night my father died, I said to the teen 'come on we're going to Nanna and Grandad's, be a good grandson and come with me' my niece was there with her 3 boys also. We had a drink and my father started on one of his favourite topics, yet rather than have an argument I just simply said 'I'm not doing this' we said our goodbyes, nicely and left. 3 hours later, I was back sitting at his side as he lay in the hallway, waiting for the paramedics to arrive.

That night I sat with him, I was relatively calm, I knew there was nothing I or anyone could do. When the paramedics took over I collapsed, I couldn't breathe, I phoned my husband and a friend. I stood on the street with the neighbours, then I spent several hours going over all the details with the police as it was a sudden death at home.

The following days I didn't wash, eat or sleep. I couldn't talk to anyone without gulping huge intakes of breath. I walked round the town asking in my head 'why are you smiling? don't you know my father just died' It's a small town and I wasn't able to go far without someone offering their condolences, many times I held it together, said 'thank you' often I fell apart, leaving people staring at me blankly not knowing what to say or do.

All of a sudden I went from saying 'my father died last night' to 'last week/month/year' Mum moved during this period. I returned back and forth to my home in Dubai. My father was a hoarder, thankfully everything was labelled, but trying to sell it all has been a battle. A challenge I've accepted, willingly. I shout at him for leaving me all this crap to sort/sell/donate/throw. I look through his things and wonder why he never showed me this stuff when he was alive. I get angry with him for leaving us like he did. I get emotional, I cry. I can't watch the World Cup without crying, or pass merchandise in the shops without automatically wanting to buy him something. I can't attend a sporting event without getting upset, as he'd be back at home trying to spot me on the TV, while mum relayed the information via face book. I can no longer argue with him, tell him he's wrong and I miss all that.

But as time has gone on, I cry less, but I never stop thinking about him, good or bad. I cried as I wrote this sitting in a coffee shop, people were looking at me, I didn't care. Because I fear the day that I don't cry for my father, the day I no longer shed a tear.

There are days, whole days when he doesn't enter my thoughts, but they are rare. He'd be so proud of the teen with his new job, he'd be excited for child 4, he was so excited when child 3 told him he was going to Australia a couple of weeks before he died, he'd be so looking forward to seeing him come back in October for a visit. He missed child 2's wedding last month.

He's missed by us all, he'll never see Thing 1, 2 & 3 grow up, his great grandchildren, or the great children my mum will get to know. Thing 1 who is 4 said to me the other day 'My grandad died, your daddy died, do you miss him? I do'

This is the post I wrote marking the end of 2017. Managing grief 5 months on.
Although i am not my mother's carer, I do need to support her with stuff while she adapts to life on her own after 53 years of marriage. Living in a different country is challenging and our story appeared in the Daily Mail, you can read about it here.

Managing grief 5 months on.

It's a sad post to end 2017 with. It's not been a sad year, there have been some great times, in fact 2017 started very well with Peter and I visiting Egypt, the UK and Hong Kong. Despite my father's death in July which was tough and something I'd been expecting, we still have some lovely memories of the year. It was still a shock when he died so suddenly, although he'd been in ill health for many years and had had a heart attack in 2012, it was still very sudden.

I never realised what the impact of losing a parent was like. I'd seen both my mother and father grieve  for their mothers (I'd never known my grandfathers) I was very close to my paternal grandmother, I focused on my own grief, I didn't really pay much attention to what my father was going through at the age of 66. I just thought he was lucky to have had his mother around for so long. I was 46 when my father died, I feel cheated.

I live in Dubai and previously we were in South Africa. For the past 7 years, returning from visits to the UK has been upsetting, always, without exception, worrying I may never see my parents again or not being able to get there in time, as has happened with other expat friends, when a family member has been taken ill suddenly.

When my father had his heart attack in 2012, it took me 48 hours to get back to the UK, 24 hours in flight and transit, no communication and not knowing if my father was alive or not until I got to the hospital in Cardiff as he was coming out of surgery.

I was fortunate enough to have been in the UK this year when he died, just a mile down the road when my sister rang to say he'd collapsed, I arrived before the paramedics and without sounding too dramatic, I sat with him as he died.

It has been a painful and difficult summer, but it's also been lovely to spend so much time with my mother, children, family and friends. Sadly 3 of my close friends lost a parent this year also. One in January, 5 years after the other parent died, another 2 weeks after my dad died and another 2 months later. My fathers cousin on his maternal grand mother’s side, wife died 5 days later also. His daughter who I consider a cousin and whom I’ve been in touch with most of my life called me to ask for the family list of phone numbers as she knew it would be up to date. It must’ve been a terrible shock for everyone to receive the 2nd lot of bad news in such a short period of time.

We've had a lot to do this summer, mum is moving into a brand new 2 bed flat in town in the New Year. We sold the house a week after putting it on the market, 2 months after my father died. My parents were wanting to downsize and move, but my father kept putting it off, as his idea of downsizing meant still having somewhere to store his vast collection of items that he would not/could not part with. So the task began to sell everything as quickly as possible to get the house ready for market.

Although we have a flat a in the UK where I could stay, it wasn't my home. Peter remained in Dubai, keeping the roof above our heads and flew to the UK for the funeral and again in September. But I didn't have him to come home to everyday, I didn't have my routine, my home. I did have my friends around me, but they were dealing with their own grief and I just needed some support from Peter, which of course he did give, but over Skype is very different from just being there, to give me a cuddle and hug me when I cried.

Mum has always said 'One year and a day' in reference to any decisions being made after a spouse has died in regards to moving on. But because I was in the UK for an indefinite period of time, we just decided to get on with things. Would life be any easier going through everything and selling up 366 days later?

We've literally stripped the house bare, emptied the attic, study, games rooms, 2 sheds and a garage. We've sold a train set, toys cars, pub and sporting memorabilia. There were 4 sets of golf clubs, 20+ fishing rods and all the associated paraphernalia. Stacks of newspapers, a pool table with 10 sets of pool balls. We sent a whole truck off to auction, sold things at boot sales, donated clothes to charity shops and done more skip runs than I care to recall, getting rid of furniture, video cassettes and enough paint and DIY products to start our own shop.

This has meant each and every item that belonged to my father has been examined, handled, plugs have been rewired so we can remove items from behind furniture. Furniture has been dismantled. It feels like not only have we got rid of my fathers stuff but we've removed every last trace of his essence, his being. When I next return to see my mum, she'll be in her new home, there will be no physical or emotional trace of my father in there.

It was an intense 5 months and now I'm back in Dubai, we moved house ourselves this month. I've had to tell people over again, as if it's all fresh and only just happened that my father has died when they ask where I've been all summer. But the hardest thing for me has been packing and moving. I feel like I've started all over again with my fathers things. There is so much of him in our home, even though he's never visited here, although he did visit us in South Africa. There is furniture we had in the UK and SA that he sat on, there are items he fixed, there are gifts he bought me as a child from his travels. His old story books his granny gave him as a boy, that he passed onto me recently. Company pens and other paraphernalia, popping out of drawers and cupboards, photos on the fridge of him with his mum, with my kids.

When mum and I went through my fathers things together, she attached a story to various items before dismantling or selling them (need to know anything about fly fishing, then seriously she's the woman to ask) I'm now going through the process again, 5 months later, reliving family events, childhood memories with Peter and they feel fresh, the grief feels like it did in the first few weeks again. I feel ill, sick. I'm not sleeping.

When I got on the plane last month to return to Dubai, it was knowing that this time my father wasn't going to be there on my return. I've not left my mum on her own she has my sister and niece and family in the same town. But this is my story of my grief, what I've done, how I've coped and how I'm not really managing. They have their own ways of dealing with things. Christmas will be hard for them without my father there, even if it is missing his moaning about the cost of things. But I'm not really sure much thought has gone into what I'm going through, how I'm coping because I just get on with things, or take over (as i'm often told) because I don't share how I'm feeling. I guess I just understand what is going on in the UK, but no one understands what it's like to live so far away, even if it is through choice. I've missed out on so much stuff back home, but I've done so much more stuff by living away.

I know my father was proud of me, despite never saying it, he wasn't one for emotion. I can hear his words and often say them out loud as we sold his stuff, dismantled the furniture. 'that's a good piece of wood there Suzanne, save those screws' but he would not have been proud of me for doing all the above, because he would have hated every minute of it. Had he survived the stroke and we'd had to sell the house, the stress of us selling his stuff would've killed him regardless, he wouldn't have let us get on with things in our way, he's have shouted at us from the sidelines to stop telling him what to do and it would've all been very unpleasant.

So in a way, my father had the best death that was possible for all of us, he always said 'I'm just going to go one day' and he did. At home, with his wife, 2 daughters and his youngest grandson. Peacefully and without pain and now we're just doing what we have to do, in our way, whether it's right or wrong or being done too quickly, who cares?

This is the last photo I took of my father, 3 days before he died.

Things to do before you die

Losing a loved one is a very difficult time.

My father died suddenly last month. As an expat, I was fortunate to have been in the UK and to have spent some time with him in the days before his death and to have actually been with him when he died as I have a flat in the same town and was able to be there shortly after he collapsed.

My father wasn't a well man, after a heart attack in June 2012 and I had to make a 24 hour journey from South Africa with little contact not knowing if he had survived until I arrived in the UK.

Since that trip, leaving has been hard every single time, not knowing if I'd ever see him again and I'd always make sure that I'd call in at Mum and Dad's to say goodbye and tell them that I loved them and that I'd see them again soon.

In between visits there would be phone and skype calls and letters written. Sometimes the phone would ring and I just wouldn't be in the mood, they'd forget the time difference, I'd moan, but I'd answer the phone or I'd call back straight away.

Over the past 7+ years since I've been outside the UK there have been other calls to say various family members have been unwell, including our children, there have been deaths in the family and I've been able to come over for the funerals. I've also planned my travels for weddings and other happy events.

Prior to this trip, I was last in the UK in March and April. I'm not sure why I planned 2 trips so close to one another. This trip June till October was planned to help the teen with finishing school, find an apprenticeship and somewhere to live, but I decided to visit in spring also.

In April it was clear to me my father's health had declined, he was having difficulty managing the stairs, doing jobs around the house, my parents were talking about moving. Mum was looking at properties, Dad was contemplating selling some stuff to be able to downsize. Dad spoke to me about the finances, not the details but where I would find things, policies etc. Told me he had funeral cover for them both and he had started the process of sorting his stuff out. But there was plenty of time to go through everything on the next visit and we'd do it all then.

I had 3 weeks with my dad when I arrived back in June. He didn't go through the rest of the stuff with me, he didn't expect to die.

My father collected things, he wasn't a hoarder, but he had a lot of stuff. It's been a bone of contention between us for years. I've told him for years that when he's on his death bed I'm going to call in house clearance, as I sat there with my father the night he died, waiting for the paramedics, that was the last thought going through my mind. I never said it, but I knew it was something I'd be doing in the next few weeks.

It would be my father's 78th birthday on September 7th. I'd already bought him this card.

Seems so apt now, all I've done for the past 7 weeks is sort, tidy, sell, recycle, donate, tip box after box of stuff. Fishing gear, golf clubs, train sets, toy cars, real car, pub ashtrays, sports memorabilia, stamps, cigarette cards, newspapers. All of it of great value and meaning to my dad, all of it a chore to me to get rid of. Some of it of value, most of it he thought was of potential value, but sadly unless I become a full time ebayer, it's just £20-£50 here and there and I have no where to store it whilst I try to sell it.

There will be no house clearance, but there will be an auction. The stamps are more specialised, there are a few other items I will take time to sell on properly for him as he has requested. He would get really upset at the thought of us just breaking up his collections and selling them on for next to nothing after he died, but we told him when he was alive that the reality is that will just have to happen, unless he spent the time sorting through things himself and at least making a start.

My father had started to label items of family and personal interest. His father's pocket watch, his footballing days and trophies. Items he'd picked up on his travels and of course Mum is able to add to the stories, identify items and tell me what things are, their history and personal value and meaning to help decide whether they should stay or go.

I'd been nagging my father for so long about getting his affairs in order that I'd started the process to sort mine out back in Dubai, between trips. Peter and I are downsizing in December and I am determined I will not leave this task to my children to do.

The grieving process for my father has been difficult, I've not had anything else in my life to measure it by to know if I'm doing OK or not, but it really hasn't been helped with all this added stress. I've been angry at him, I've had unanswered questions, I've screamed at the unfairness of why I'm having to clear all this shit out. I've cried in despair at the number of fishing rods one man needs and FFS he's never been deep sea fishing in his life, why so much gear? All the years I've asked for something but he's not let me have it, yet now, there's no satisfaction in it, and besides the bloody thing doesn't work anyway and he'd have known that. The glue sticks had all run dry, the envelopes had all lost their stick.

There are a lot of things I've learnt from my father's death, both good and bad about what needs to be done and I thought I'd share a list of what I'm going to do and/or have already put in place so when the time comes and I'm no longer here it will hopefully make things easier for my surviving relatives.

• write a will, include funeral wishes and instruct the solicitors to act as executors and do probate where needed (particularly helpful if you predict family issues or family are spread far and wide)
• write a separate list of every single item you want to go to each person
• prepare your eulogy (my father had a pack with his CV, brief history of his football career, suggested hymns, readings)
• arrange finances for funeral cover
• ensure all policy documents are clearly labelled, keep a list of current/active documents, policy numbers and contact details in the front of files
• if you have social media accounts set up a legacy and/or leave a list of passwords with someone you trust
• leave a letter for your loved ones, even if it is 10+ years out of date
• have your photo taken with all your family at every opportunity you have to do so
• tell your family you love them and make sure they understand it's not just words
• tell your family you are proud of everything they do
• tell your children stories about your childhood, talk to them about the older generations and if they're too young to listen or don't seem interested then write it down
• listen to the older generations, spend time with them, let them tell you the same stories over and over again, write down the stories
• take a little sticky label and put it on the bottom of an ornament, object with who it was from and when (christening gift, aunty xxxx 19xx)
• research your family tree, add photo's, snippets of info, dates, interesting facts like your great grandfather waking the railway lines from Wolverhampton to Newport with his brother to Newport till they found work in the Steel works then sending for the family
• declutter, tidy, sell, get rid of stuff, only keep what you use/need. Donate items of personal interest to museums etc. Don't leave it to your family to do, they will bin it, they don't have the time. Remember everything can be found online these days.

The most important thing you can do though is just send time with your family, create memories, take photographs and enjoy the moment. At the end of the day, all the stuff you bought will be sold or given away and all the time you spend collecting your stuff together will just be dismantled.

I value this photo, taken 3 days before he died, more than any trinket he could could've have given me.

We spent the morning with mum at 2 boot sales before stopping at the Speech House for coffee. I wish I'd asked more questions. I know what day and time your died, as I was there with you. I know what day and where you were born as I have your birth certificate, but I do not know what time you came into the world.

I have your handwritten notes, but I have nothing in your handwriting written to me.

Dad, sadly over recent years we've not spent much time together as a family, we've all had our own lives, things to do, lived in various places around the world. But since you've died we've all come together and spent a lot of time making new memories, having fun despite the sadness, putting our differences to one side to support one another through this difficult time. We've all learnt that it's the who and not the what that counts these days. I wish you could've been here to see all your Children, grandchildren and great children together, probably for the first time. We did make the effort before you died, back in April for the teens 18th birthday, but sadly we never got to take a photo with you in it.

My Sunday Photo - Week 135 U is for unexpected

This is the birthday card I bought for my Dad, his birthday will be on September the 7th. Sadly he died on July 11th.

As an expat, living in Dubai, I always get cards and gifts ready in advance and leave with my mum to hand out during the year. I was in the UK when my Dad died, this was my 3rd visit this year and I'm grateful I was able to be with him the night the he died and to have spent so much time with him and the family in his final few months, although at the time we didn't know that.

In my Dad's eulogy we wrote 'If Doug had 2 of anything, it would become a collection'

My Dad collected memorabilia, his collections include football, stamps, toy cars, sporting gear, posters, records, in fact you name it, he collected it.

Dad had started to catalogue a lot of stuff and always kept things neat and tidy, there were bits of his collections throughout the entire 4 bed house and on occasion, if he had spares or we really liked something (pestered him or swapped stuff) he'd hand it over.

My relationship with with Dad was a fiery one and we'd wind one another up to the point of no return. But I loved him and knew he loved me, even if the words weren't said often enough.

I often said to him to sell his collections, enjoy the money, but he'd say 'you'll thank me one day, some of this stuff is worth quite a bit' but I'd tell him I didn't want to have to go through it all, sell it etc after he died, it was too much of a chore to have to do that.

Well that day has come.

It won't be going in the skip of course, but it is a huge job ahead of us that we all face to sort and sell his stuff and one that I'm not sure I really have the energy to do.

My Sunday Photo - Week 133 - C is for coping

 This is my dad. I called his Douglas since I was a small child. I have no idea why, just something I've always done and strangely my youngest child calls me by my first name also.

I took this photo a week ago. I didn't know it would be the last picture I ever took of him, before he died suddenly at home on Tuesday night.

My dad was an ill man for several years, but his health didn't stop him doing things it just slowed him down. He got frustrated and angry because he couldn't do things and at 77 he still considered himself 55 in his mind. He was grumpy, opinionated and I'd try to expand his mind with my experiences of the world but we'd end up having a full blown row, but we NEVER left it unresolved. 

I sat with my dad on Tuesday night when he died, there was nothing I could've done. I know that from the minute I arrived at the house. 

I didn't know it would be just this hard. I'm not sleeping, I didn't wash for 4 days, but I'm making sure me and my mum have a proper meal every day. My boys have all been here. I have to keep trying to remember that they've lost their grandad, my mum has lost her husband as well as me losing my dad. 

We keep apologizing to one another, being frightfully british, taking it in turns to be upset, support, cry, laugh. 

The funeral has been arranged, clothes have to picked, eulogy written, flowers, I need a pair of shoes to go with my dress, son needs a tie (one of grandads????) banks, wills, pensions, I'm only scraping the surface here.

I'm driving child 3 back to Leeds today, he'll be back for the funeral. Child 4 deployment was delayed by a week and I'm taking him to join his regiment in Brize Norton on Monday. Peter arrives on Thursday, everything will be done by then and I can and will just switch off,  until the funeral on Monday.