Wednesday 1 November 2017


At 3.10 am this morning I received the call I'd been dreading. It was the nursing home that were taking care of my dad. They said it was time. We needed to go in.

 It's the worst call I have ever received. My heart was pounding. Now I had to call mum. How do I do that? How can I call my mum and tell her that we have to go and say goodbye.

Shaking, I dial the number. A heart wrenching conversation occurs and I pull my clothes on.

I kiss my husband and kids and drive to mums with tears streaming down my face. As I approach mums I try and wipe the tears away. I need to stay strong, I need to look after her today.

Mum gets in the car and we make our way there. We talk about how they might have made a mistake. Two weeks ago we were told he might only have a few days left and they were wrong then.

Deep down we knew it was coming but we desperately hoped that this was all a bad dream.

Unfortunately it was not. A few hours later he was gone. Cancer has taken Dad. Stolen him away from us.

Our hearts are broken.

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