(no subject)

Dad's going down fast.
He had a catheter fitted (inserted?) early this morning.
Renal problems, Hepatic problems. Increasing dose of Morphine Sulphate. Poor man's unconscious most of the time. Mike and Alexis have been totally solid. Mum has done her duty and more (far more). I'm the only one wanting in any way, having gone down with this at just the wrong time.
It's about waiting and holding hands.
Alexis has been great, though obviously she's felt somewhat apart from all of this. Told mum to contact Mike's ex (who has been v close to Dad over the years). Top Girl. Generosity of behaviour always leaves one feeling touched by grace. Difficult time for her, and one she's rising to meet with spirit.
The next few days will probably give us the answers.

(no subject)

Dad's failing. Morphine through a constant injection beneath the skin on the belly. Mike & Alexis have left for Oop North. Everyone a bit frayed. Poor dear woke up for a moment, saw everyone around him (just one of those happy co-incidences) smiled in recognition, then drifted back off to sleep. In Xanadu did Kublai Khan...sweet pipe dreams my dear...probably the best way to go, all things considered: and wash up on the far side of the Lethe in some other place, still drinking the milk of paradise.
Doc says he could hang on like this for days - I say as long as he's not having too much pain. I think the stuff he's on would put even me into orbit; I just hope it's enough.
He still snores like a good'un though, which is a familiar comfort, much changed from the source of irritation the last time I shared a hotel room with him for a funeral in Dublin in '98.
He's not conscious any more.
He is the best man I've ever met, and he's had a good innings, and he fought in WWII, and he brought up two boys that rarely acknowledged the sacrifices he made for us, and all he wants to be remembered as, is as a man who tried to do his Christian duty, which is more than any vainglorious, trumpeting, self-serving, self-publicising, television evangelists have ever managed.
Morning's a new day.

(no subject)

My darling father died at 9.20pm GMT.

Mum and I were the only ones with him.

He breathed out and didn't breathe in again.

It was the exhalation of a man at peace.