Mermaid!

Thoughts about Dad

I wrote this sitting beside my Dad in the hospital one morning. He was barely conscious of my presence and I occupied myself reading, listening to my mp3 player, and writing the following:

As I write this I am sitting beside my father as he sleeps in his hospital bed in the hospice ward. He doesn’t have much longer to live. His level of discomfort has now reached the point that they are gently sedating him and his lucid moments are almost over. He says he feels wonderful and floaty. I am glad he is not suffering. In just a week or two he has gone from being able to walk to the lounge to watch TV to not being able to roll over in bed. He doesn’t even have the energy to read a book. It has been a very swift decline.

I am struck by the similarity between the end of life and the beginning of it. Bathing the body by applying moisturiser and then wiping it off, as I did with my newborn babies. A diet of liquid and mush. Nappies. Having very little control of gross and fine motor skills. Struggling to enunciate. Being pushed around in a wheeled chair. The way I keep checking that dad is breathing, like I did with my babies (and still sometimes do when they seem to be too asleep!).

The difference of course is that there is a perfectly aware adult mind stuck inside this helpless body, that there is pain, and that unlike a baby who thrives and gets stronger day by day my dad is getting weaker by the minute.

Dad keeps apologising to me because his demise is happening during my visit. In fact, I don’t mind – I would rather be here now keeping him company and helping my stepmom than to be on the other side of the world hearing about it. My husband, who has lost both his parents already and who missed attending both their deaths by mere hours, completely understands. I am probably going to have to delay my flight home, and my husband will have to take more time off work to look after the kids, but he is being extremely gracious about it.

The level of care required to make dad comfortable is amazing. Oxygen, special air mattress to prevent bedsores, high nutrient drinks, painkillers, sedation, being turned from side to side every few hours, catheter and nappies. I catch myself wondering how horrible it must have been to die in the olden days (or in 3rd world countries right now I suppose). Pain, breathlessness, bedsores, starvation, soiling oneself- the mind boggles. I am so glad we have access to modern medicine and that dad’s Navy medical plan covers all this.

Until just a few days ago Dad was still at home. My stepmom nursed him and did a brilliant job. In her youth she trained as a nurse, but I think any loving wife would have done the same.

Dad had a Project that he really wanted done, which was to gather all the information and photos he has of our ancestors, and to scan them to share with the family. My job over the past week has been to sift through heaps of paper from the past 40 years looking for nuggets of history. During my search Dad realised that I was also gathering anything to do with his life, from high school certificates to Naval commendations, to preserve for myself and my descendants. Someday my children and grandchildren may want to know more about my Dad, in the way I wish there was more info about my grandad. I think Dad was chuffed to know that I value his life history too.

We pretty much completed our Project. I’d emptied the cupboard which had been packed with paperwork, and Dad and I had looked at and discussed all the papers and photos I’d found. On the day we rushed to hospital I hadn’t yet scanned the last pile of stuff and there was a heap of old papers that Dad might have liked to have looked through, but really we were finished. I’ve packed a bundle of old photos to take home with me for scanning, so I shall finalise the Project later.

Whenever Dad has a lucid moment he asks me if we finished the Project and I tell him that we have. It must be worrying him that we might not have ticked that box. Once Dad learned his cancer was terminal he made a Bucket List of things he wanted to do before he was gone. I’d always thought of a Bucket List as a grand affair – hot air balloons and Paris and rides on a space rocket – but I guess you have to tailor these things to reality. Dad has been so ill this year that his list was far more prosaic: give the boat to a friend, buy my stepmom a new car, and dig out the family history. I am glad I was able to help him tick the last item off his Bucket List. I’m also glad I managed to get my hands on the family history, as my children are Dad’s only blood descendants.



Memories:

When I was little Dad smelled of coffee and cigarettes or pipe tobacco. He has always been very physically affectionate, happy to hold hands or have me sit in his lap or give big hugs. Even as a grown woman I’d hold hands with Dad walking down the street. I wonder if some people thought he had a very young wife!

My parents would often sit quietly in their respective armchairs reading books, drinking coffee and smoking. My favourite spot was in the corner of the room behind Mom’s chair. It was lit by her floorlamp, and I would curl up on the carpet with an Asterix graphic novel. They’d play classical LPs on the record player, and if I was lucky they’d let me turn the record over and ever so carefully drop the needle onto it again.

Once or twice a week we would need to stir our swimming pool so that all the debris would collect in the middle, ready for Mom to suck it out with the pool cleaner. I’d be doing my best, up to my neck in the water. Dad would lap me a few times and suddenly I’d be swept into his slipstream, bobbing along behind him in delight as he created a whirlpool.

In the pool Dad would swim underwater with me clinging to his shoulders until I couldn’t hold my breath any longer and would have to let go and surface. He would also submerge, get me to stand on his shoulders, then stand up and throw me into a dive from well above the water. I remember dad and his brothers all pretending to hold their wives underwater while the kids all went mental at the edge. Dad was into paddlesurfing and practiced Eskimo rolls in the pool. I don’t remember him ever succeeding!

We spent a great deal of time at the beach. Dad was a surfer and a paddlesurfer. Mom and I would bodyboard, and I’d build sandcastles and investigate rockpools and collect seasnails with Kelly. I’m surprised I never learned to surf. Maybe if we hadn’t moved inland when I was 12 I would have.

Dad was always working with wood. I loved the smell and texture of sawdust. Dad never taught me any carpentry, but I have a fair understanding of nails and woodglue picked up while helping him by holding things. Holding things waiting for glue to dry is very boring!

After my parents divorced Dad got himself a guitar and keyboard. Unfortunately he is literally tone deaf! When I’d visit I had to tune the guitar.

Dad taught me to drive. For a while anyway! I decided I’d rather not know how to drive than be taught by Dad… a year later he paid for lessons and I passed first time. I imagine that is why Mom taught me to ride a bicycle!



My Dad died later the same day.

Birthdays!

King turned 1 the day before I got home, and Princess turned 3 a couple of days later on the Saturday, so we gave them all the presents together on Saturday morning. A bit like Christmas!

A real digital camera! For kids!

Of course, she'd prefer an iPhone...

Chocolate sponge roll with 2 candles on it (1 and 3). Princess spent ages blowing these out and having them relit!

Later in the day, playing with Daddy on the daybed.

And a few more pics of my back-to-normality life: In the park

Wearing Mummy's slippers

Coffee shop chaos

I'm Home

I've been home for over a week, and it almost feels as if I was never away and my Dad's passing was all a dream. Until one of my kids makes me laugh and I realise that it has been so very long since I last felt like laughing...

I'm ok. I'm just sort of generally a little bit sad. The week I spent in South Africa after Dad died was so hugely emotional that I think I have worked through a great deal of my grief already. Or else it is waiting to hit me later.

We held Dad's memorial on Tuesday 28th August in Saldanha, where he and StepMom live. Because of the short notice and long way to travel we only had about 100 people turn up, where we'd been expecting at least double that. It was nice to have a relatively small number though and they were all close friends and family. One of Dad's brothers and StepBrother flew in from London, a cousin flew from Jhb, and folk gathered from all over.

The memorial was held at the yacht club, of which Dad was a member. It was very suitable, right on the water, and we had glorious weather. Several people spoke, including Dad's doctor from the hospice who was a true angel of mercy. StepGranddaughter C sang Amazing Grace at Dad's request and we all cried. The flower arrangements were done in the colours of the desert spring flowers which are blooming right now in the Saldanha area, and which my Dad loved. There was lots of good food, plenty of wine, and at the end the remaining family gathered at home for a braai.

After Dad died I moved into the house with StepMom (I'd been staying around the corner with StepSister) so that she (and I) wouldn't be waking up alone. It was incredibly emotional and we took turns dissolving in tears until the day I left.

Since coming home I haven't cried much. The kids take a lot of attention and I caught a horrible cold within a couple of days which I can't seem to shake, so there isn't much time left over for grief (or blogging or anything else!)

My Dad is Gone

My Dad died on Wednesday 22 August 2012 at 9:40pm.

He passed quietly in his sleep with his wife by his side. I had kissed him goodnight and told him I loved him just a few hours before.

I did manage to have a lovely visit with Dad for a week before he had to go hospital. Although he couldn't get out of bed he was lucid and chatty and very happy to have me there.

I am glad his suffering is over, but oh how sad I am that he is no longer in my life.

I wrote this tribute for Dad a while ago, and I shared it with him during my visit. He was thrilled and very touched.

---

Every child starts off thinking their Dad knows everything and can do anything.

When I was little Dad made me a ride-on tortoise, and a bit later a scooter. He has built shelves and furniture, brewed beer, pickled olives, cured biltong and renovated houses. Dad has surfed, paddle-skied, windsurfed, kite surfed, hanglided, played tennis, cycled the Argus and run marathons, including the Comrades several times. He has serviced his own cars, and mine once I owned one. All this while carving an exemplary career as a naval officer. There is nothing Dad can’t do.

Dad always feels other people should be able to do anything too, and encourages us to attempt everything we want to do. Milord often says “Why didn’t you wait for me to come home to do it for you?”, when it never occurs to me that I couldn’t do it myself! My Dad taught me to do anything.

Anything I ask Dad he can usually answer, and if not then he’ll find out. “I don’t know” is never a good enough answer for him, and so there is nothing Dad doesn’t know.

Once I learned to read Dad’s answers tended to become “Look it up” as he steered me towards the 3 sets of encyclopedias we owned. At the time it was a bit frustrating, but knowing how to find things out for myself is an invaluable skill. “I don’t know” is not good enough for me either! One of the best professional compliments I have ever received was from a colleague who said he was always happy to explain something to me, because he knew I’d already looked everywhere else for the answer first. My Dad taught me to know everything.

Not many independent adults can say that their Dad has never fallen off the All-knowing All-doing pedestal!

I’ve been hearing stories about Dad from family recently. The recurring themes are “Hero”, “Mentor”, “Leader” and “Larger than Life”. Dad was just “Dad” to me, and I thought all his fabulous attributes were normal. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been so disappointed in the various boyfriends I tested over the years, and why it took me until my mid-thirties to finally find a man who measures up!

Family has always been very important to Dad, and he has been the centre of our enormous clan from the beginning. As the eldest and the first to settle down, Dad’s house was usually the venue for any family gatherings and I grew up surrounded by a swarm of aunties, uncles and cousins. I am really sad that Dad is not going to be able to be Grandad to my kids. Grace and James won’t remember their Grandad, or know what it’s like to be tickled and teased into a complete meltdown by him as a little kid, or be able to draw on his vast wisdom as confused teenagers, or be able to merrily share a few beers and tall tales as young adults.

Somewhere over the past few decades my Dad and I became friends rather than just father and daughter. He now trusts me to choose the right job, the right country and the right husband. Dad always says: “If you know what you want, you can achieve it. Believe in yourself. Be happy.”

I think Dad’s proud of me. I’m certainly proud of him!

Plus, of course, I love him to bits. I love my Dad like a flower follows the sun, like water flows downhill and like night follows day. He has always been there in the background no matter how far I roam or how rarely we make contact, and I can't imagine the void his absence is going to create.

I'm Fine

I'm getting worried emails from around the world!

I'm fine, really. Nothing a slab of chocolate and some wine can't fix! I don't get depressed, but I do get sad, worried, frustrated and cross. Sometimes all at once and I then I feel the need to complain.

Princess will be fine. The heart murmur can't be that bad if they've only just found it, I'm not really concerned about her balance, and the glasses are cooooool.

I have the sweetest boy in the world.

Dad's blood results were so good this week he didn't need to be admitted.

So, on the whole, things are as good as they can be ;-)

Pity Party

*sigh* I have the blues.

In 4 days I fly to South Africa to see my Dad. To say goodbye.

Dad spends half of each week in the hospital now, receiving blood and antibiotics as his body is not doing much in that department anymore. He sleeps most of the time. This will be the last time I see my father.

I feel bad writing that I'm miserable, because it's so selfish.

Poor Princess is getting glasses today, which she has to wear all the time to try to correct a squint. If the glasses don't work then she will need surgery on her eye muscles. And she's now been referred to a neurologist because her walking is so wobbly. Oh, and she has a fucking heart murmur!

The cost of the fence we recently built, my flights to see Dad and Milord's leg operation have seriously impacted our finances. I have had to dip into the kid's college fund to pay for it all. This makes me feel bad too. And makes Milord cranky because he's the breadwinner blah blah blah.

I'm fat. No more than usual, but I really was hoping I'd lose a few kilos before my trip to visit Dad. It seems so wrong to be a blobby mess while visiting someone who is wasting away because they can't eat. Food is my comfort thing though...

Milord is taking 2 weeks off work to look after the kids while I'm away. He's never even had them both for a day, so I'm a bit worried about him although he's being very gracious about it. What with me being blue, and all Princess' latest medical issues, Milord is a bit short tempered lately. I have to walk on eggshells around him.

*sigh*

Growing Up!

Princess had her first day of Preschool/Kindergarten/Nursery School today! She's a bit younger than they usually take (because she turns 3 in September she was only supposed to start in January) but they had spaces free and I reckoned she was ready.

Princess had a ball! I got there at 2 to pick her up early, as that is usually right in her nap zone, and Princess was still bounding around all over the place. We came home and after a snack (she hardly touched her packed lunch) I tucked her, protesting, into bed where she immediately conked out.

The teachers say she did very well, and next week I'll leave her til 3 and see how she goes. At the moment she is only attending one day a week, but in September we might increase that to 2 days a week.

My baby is growing up!

...but not too fast ;-)

Your Royal Fix

My Dad has just been back in hospital for transfusions. He's home now, which is great! I shall be there in just over 3 weeks, and can't wait.

Here are some pics and vids to cheer Dad up.

King on the couch. No, he's not crawling, climbing or cruising yet. I'm just trying to show him what's possible! King spends a fair amount of time on his front every day, going backwards and getting more and more frustrated. It will click someday.

My boyz.

The highlight of any shopping trip is the coffee shop stop. Princess has a cookie and a babycino. King has an empty space as he's still a destructo menace!

Your Royal Fix

I should be doing Milord's tax return... or I can throw a couple of photos at the internet and watch the Tour with lots of wine. Hmmmm...

Fairy Dancing...

"What's this Mummy?"
"It's a megaphone. Like a microphone. You can sing into it."
"Lalalala! Lalalala!"

...half an hour later...

Some more park time on a chilly day, with arm painting!

And so to bed...