I want to write about death
I want to write about my father
I want to write about loss and grief
And how you put your world back together again
I want to write about toppling dominoes and runaway trains
Of standing by as he slips away knowing there is nothing you can do
The crushing bewilderment that demands “why him?”
And the reluctant acceptance “why not”.
Cancer doesn’t play favourites!
It doesn’t court the obvious or hunt the deserving
It isn’t fair or logical and delivers no justice
But it arrives nonetheless, like a sledgehammer, smashing through the past, present and future of all in its reach.
I want to write about the helplessness
I want to explain how useless words are at a time like this
“Well at least he’s at peace now… “At least he isn’t suffering anymore.”
Truths that don’t stop you wanting just a little more time
I search life for a message; a clue or coincidental spark of recognition… but nothing comes
Perhaps I am still too close
Perhaps as distance opens up and time allegedly heals
A new understanding will emerge from the pool of sadness left behind
I want to write about a journey that bears no resemblance to expectation
Knowing full well the inadequacy of words permit it
I want to illuminate the final moments
So that butterflies may dance with his soul and guide him safely onward
I want to find a place for the grief to help fill the empty chair
I want to quench the guilt at the untold stories and unshared memories
The good intentions never quite reaching the page in time
I want to know what to do with the hole that’s left and how to bridge the gap
I want to have just a few more minutes with my Dad
To make sure that he knows he is loved, that I am proud to be his daughter
That nothing needs to be fixed or resolved or forgiven
I want to know that he knew how lucky he was despite the end
I want to know that he knew how many lives he touched and how many smiles he inspires
That he read the cards and smelt the flowers
I want to know that he found comfort at the hundreds of people who honoured his passing
That he was moved by the genuine sadness that is shared by all who knew him
Nothing prepares you for death – the gulf between theory and practice acutely demonstrated.
Nothing pacifies the loss or makes it any less devastating
Nothing helps as you struggle to find your footing on a brand new landscape
Nothing will ever quite fit together the same way again
I want to write about the roller coaster of highs and lows
Fragments of hope slowly extinguished as the disease closes in and strength gives way to weakness.
I want to find words to describe how time stands still but the world doesn’t
You watch it pass by without you, oblivious to your grief and wonder how to re-enter
I want to know how to cope with the recurring disbelief that takes my breath away
Moments of fractured normality brutally punctured by the inescapable reality…
He’s gone.
He’ll never meet the man I fall in love with
Never walk me down the aisle
Never bounce my children on his knee
Never pick up the phone
Or walk through the door
Yet there was beauty too, magical tender moments I will treasure
The midnight chats and pineapple tarts
The compassion and gentle gratitude that he was MY father
The shifts of perspective where little niggles dissolve and all that remains are cozy memories
The indefinable and unfathomable love that weaves through our family
– As fine as silk yet as strong as steel.
Grief can’t grip you and twist your heart if you did not first love
I am grateful for that love
I need to know he heard our goodbyes and that there was nothing he needed to say
I need to know that he followed the light to where loved ones welcomed him with open arms
I need to know that he was proud and he’ll visit us now and again
But most of all I just need to know he got home safe…
29 May 2005
By Karen McCreadie ©
Dedicated to my Dad – Andrew McCreadie 26.03.35 – 19.05.05