It’s a long time since my last post. Over 2 years. I’m still here, travelling through this experience. No longer awaiting a destination. Working out ways to enjoy the experience as much as I can. I’m grateful for this journey. for the activities I get to be involved with and the people that come in
It’s been a while since I carried out my meditation practice. I don’t know why I stopped. This week i began again with the Headspace app. This now has a grief pack. Looking through the app it seems that here are many new packs ready to be explored. But first, the grief pack. I’ve not
‘Crossing the Bar’ is a term generally used by the military/ex-military and more specifically the Royal Navy to politely inform and advise of a person that has died. The term is taken from a poem by Lord Alfred Tennyson as meaning to cross the “sandbar” between the tide or river of life, with its outgoing
My Dad was a strong man. Supportive and practical. Willing to help out when needed. I looked on him as a rock. Solid. Always there. Solid underfoot. And now he is gone. I grew up with this strong man and now I am grown. I do not have his presence to rely on. Yet knowing
You can shed tears that he is gone Or you can smile because he has lived You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left Your heart can be empty because you can’t see him Or you can be
On Wednesday we cremated my Dad. It was a lovely send off. Standing room only at the crematorium showed how many thought so highly of Dad. A beautiful service by the celebrant Jo. Standard bearers and pall bearers, all volunteers – friends and former work mates. Family supporting each other. A full hall for the
Today I visited my Dad in the funeral parlour. This is the last time I will see him. I feel like we’ve just been waiting. It hadn’t sunk in… until today All the planning for the funeral and wake is complete. We are now waiting again. Waiting for the day when we finally say Goodbye.
On Wednesday last week my father died. I held his hand as he struggled to breathe. I told him that we were with him. It is all I knew to say. Rest easy Dad, I’m with you. You are not alone. You made your choice to stop the pain and the indignity that you felt.
I’ve always thought that I couldn’t make decisions. I’ve analysed this so many times, so many ways, looking back to the past and how I experienced the process of decision making. I’ve realised now that I can make decisions. I take time with the process. I think on the issue for a while. I discuss