Goodbyebye.

At 6.20 am this morning my dad went home. His Peggy Sue was holding his hand and as they began their lives together and alone he ended this life alone with her.
There was the most perfect sunrise as I drove into the hospital car park just minutes after he died, which just made me feel as though the Lord was happy to have this man home. My dad smiled as he died but when I arrived soon after he had gone, there was no smile and there was no dad. So obviously was this mortal body no longer anything but an empty shell. How humbling to see that this physical shell that we lay such store by, is nothing more than an outer casing we need while on this earth.
What struck us this morning is that we have such a legacy of joy in our family, such a sense of humour that has seen and carried us through times that perhaps could crush us. This morning was no different.
The hospital is on a hill, the entrance to the ward dad was on was at the top of this hill. The room he was in was on the 8th floor. I parked my car and although I almost knew that there was no need to hurry I ran, up the hill. As I ran there was a part of me still able to think " Oh I do hope no-one can see me, if anyone can see me they'll be thinking ' blimey, she hasn't done that often enough in her life' When I felt my belly slap the top of my thigh even I knew there is a limit to pushing what's right and proper and settled for a brisk walk. Perhaps it is time I do more brisk walking........
10 minutes after I arrived came Julie and Jane. Whistling and out of breath, kissing that body that was dad, they managed a snort and told the story of their ascent up to floor 8, Jane is considerably more bothered by her appearance than the rest of us and does yoga and goes to the gym, walks for miles and so when Julie got out of the car and told her to hurry, she did.....quite easily jogged up the hill with a puffing Julie wheezing that maybe she couldn't quite keep up, the lift was WAY too slow and so " bah, we'll take the stairs" when met by the fabulous nurse at the entrance to the ward they were both completely out of breath, wheezing and puffing as the nurse said so kindly "I'm sorry, your dad's gone," all Julie could do was lean her haed on the nurses shoulder and say " Fooof, oh, I didn't even clean my teeth" ( a point we are pretty sure she gathered all on her own as the 'fooof' hit her nostrils)
Mum, having been just more amazing and calm for this whole experience was obviously weak and tired. She found the fact that the restaurant wouldn't be open for another hour or so just enough to make her almost weep. Mac Donalds is very near and so, because none of us felt any need or desire to watch the rapid changes in dad, we went for breakfast. I don't suppose there was one of us who would have imagined that a bacon and egg Mc muffin or some porridge at Maccy D's would be the perfect thing for such an occassion- but it was.
We took mum home and I made some phone calls. There is nothing we can do until monday and so hopefully we can take a breather, follow mum's lead and just be sad.
As I arrived home, the 17 days of this emotional rollercoaster slammed into me. I walked up the steps to the house and out it came, howling like a wounded dog. Then my H took over, MY children loved ME, families are the greatest gift.
As the time has passed throughout these days we have all had such waves of realisation hit us, a feeling of such massive sadness about how huge a gap there will be when he was gone. As the feeling hit, we would push it aside so that we could do what needed doing right then......enjoy the absolute honour of being with him as he made this journey. It has been an honour. It has been uplifting and life changing. It has been so spiritually huge that we were thrilled to be allowed to experience it with our dad.
Now we have to let in that feeling that we are going to miss him. All those stupid thoughts about how we won't see him in his dreadful winter hat with the flapping furry ear bits, just a tad too small but he wore it with such pride we had to love it.
We'll never hear him not swear again, he was so bloody good at not swearing " Oh F..luff under the bed" " Oh BLAST that thing!" " oh SH---ugar" I don't think I will ever hear anyone say "cheery bye darlin" again, because I've never heard anyone else say it. Yesterday he managed to open his eyes and look for mum, when he saw her face he smiled and said " goodbyebye"
After they doctors had told us that he would be in a drug enduced coma, unable to feel pain and know we were there, he said, more loudly and clearly than anything else he had said for days
" I - LOVE - YOU!"
"you wouldn't lie to me would you my darlin", said mum.
" OH- NO!-------NEVER"
What made that more beautiful and memorable is that he said it so loudly and was obviously so determined to say it clearly, that it came out in the most fabulous 50's black and white movie voice, perfect diction and very upper class. Glorious.
So many memories packed into these last few days, on top of lifetime of memories to treasure and none of them shady. Not one memory that we have to pretend didn't happen, not one that we wished we didn't have. What a man, what a husband, son, brother. What a father.
I wonder what I did that earned me the right to be born into such a family where fear was never an issue. Where such integrity, dignity, humour, joy, fun, honour, respect and above all love was the key. Whatever the reason, I hope I will never take it for granted.
Goodbyebye my dad, til we meet again.