I’m sad to inform you that my dad passed away on Thursday, February 8, 2024. After a month in the hospital because of pancreatitis, he didn’t make it. I hoped and prayed he would get better. I didn’t want him to die so soon. He was only 79 years old. He would have turned 80 on March 25. I saw him on Monday 5th, and he was still conscious and talking. He was under the covers, and he said he was cold. I didn’t realise I wouldn’t see him again like that. I didn’t go and see him the next day. I wish I had because on Wednesday, the doctor called, and she said his condition had become worse and they had stopped treating him. They had put a prohibition of resuscitation on him on February 3. I’ve read they can cancel it if the patient’s condition improves. I held on to that thought. When you have hope, you don’t think about death. You never know when your end comes. I wish I would have talked about it when he could talk. But as my dad used to say, dwelling on the past is unnecessary. It’s true; you can’t change things that have already happened.

Seeing him lying in the hospital bed, I couldn’t believe it was a matter of time before I had to say goodbye. The nurse said perhaps he could hear me, so I talked to him and showed affection. My family never said I love you, but we proved it by caring. You don’t want to let go, and it feels like you can never stop crying. I held his hand and told him to say hi to my mother and sister wherever he went. It was terrible to see him like that. He was sleeping with his mouth slightly open and breathing intermittently. His head was on the right side of the pillow. It looked uncomfortable, so I asked the nurse if they had moved his head, and they had. I was worried his neck would get stiff or something. They had given him pain relief, and he was unconscious, so he didn’t feel anything. I was in the room for at least 2 hours. Before I left the hospital, I asked the nurse if he felt anything, and the answer was he was already in that place. All you want your loved ones to be is painless and not knowing that they are dying. It felt uncanny that my dad was leaving this earth. I knew he would die, but I wasn’t ready for it. Somehow, I knew it would happen because of the way he lived. He didn’t live a healthy life. Let’s just say alcohol was a part of his lifestyle, and he knew it, but he had reduced the drinking. The last time he drank a lot, it was at Christmas, so maybe that’s why he got pancreatitis. The cause of death was a blood clot in the heart.

The waiting was the worst. It was a matter of time before they would call from the hospital and say he was gone. At 11.40 am, they called, and that was that. He had died about 11 am. The day I had dreaded was here, and it was too soon. I wished my dad would have lived a few more years. When my mother died in 2013, he was there, and things were easier because I didn’t have to handle all the funeral planning. I am the only surviving family member, and things would probably be more complicated if I didn’t have relatives like my cousin. Also, you can find help from other sources. I have been thinking about why my dad was taken away from me so soon. Maybe God or some high power didn’t want Dad to suffer from a memory disorder. His memory wasn’t as good as before. Living with a memory disease isn’t easy for anyone. Maybe there is a reason for this all. In some ways, it’s a relief that Dad doesn’t need to suffer from anything anymore. Life isn’t easy for anyone. You lose loved ones, and you grieve them. I’ve been in that situation too many times, though. I wish I didn’t have to cry this much, but that’s how I handle grief. Even writing this blog post brought me to tears. I haven’t called his half-sister because talking about his death is difficult to say out loud. I called her when Dad was dying, but I didn’t get through. I don’t even know if she’s still around. She’s over 90 already, so you never know. My dad was the one who used to call her, so it feels a little strange to talk to her on the phone. The last time we met was before Covid. There are a few other calls to make to Dad’s acquaintances, but I don’t know how to tell them. Some of them I have never met.

There are so many things to do when planning a funeral. Not just that, but every practical thing you need to handle. It can become too overwhelming during grief, but by doing one thing at a time, things will be done eventually. I will see this as a new event and a new start. When the funeral is done, and Dad is put down to rest, things will feel more manageable. I’ve had difficult times before and will survive this one, too. Things won’t be the same again because the people who knew me all my life are now gone. With them around, I could be myself, but now I’m unsure. I’m not good at getting to know new people. Or they don’t want to know me. I’m not dependent on other people, and I don’t feel lonely, but perhaps those feelings will creep upon me one day, but now I don’t. Life will go on, and I hope things will improve once again.

RIP Dad