Enduring memory

As I began to come to terms with his passing, before going to sleep on the second day, it suddenly hit me that my "proper Dad" was gone.  Forever.  

Since May we had been dealing with Dad in hospital and the last week was even more difficult.  Following 2 bouts of pneumonia (I read recently that up to 2/3 of patients with forms of dementia will ultimately die due to pneumonia) treatment was stopped and Dad held on for nearly a week.

The first couple of days was about letting go of that Dad, the Dad who had struggled on and on in hospital for the last months, weeks and days.  However after that I remembered (obviously hadn't forgotten) than the old Dad, the "proper Dad" had passed.

With the gradual, but unstoppable regression of recent months I had not stopped to try to draw a line where I can hand on heart remember him as a whole person.  Family members spoke of the last thing he said to them, but I think the last proper thing he said to me was "Where's Harry?" (my youngest son) which was about a month before he passed when i visited him.

I realised that the last time that I sat with him, talked, laughed and can truly say that he recognised/enjoyed my company was when we were on holiday.  The rest of the family was out, and my wife, kids and I took Dad to the garden where I was trying (in vain) to fly a kite with Leo (my eldest).

 

Despite it being windy enough to warrant 2 coats and a duvet, alas I couldn't find the right wind to get the kite to work properly.

I think this will be my enduring 'last' memory of dad, his cheeky smile, the way he chatted with his grandchildren