Fathers Day {And Every Other} Without Dad

26th July 2012.  Just before 2am.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  It was the day that Herbie turned 7 weeks old.  A few hours earlier, I posted a photo of my two babies on IG with a comment as to how I was the luckiest mum in the world, cosied up next to them & fell asleep.  I remember opening my eyes and reaching for my phone which was in the never slept in co-sleeping crib.  I sat up, stared at the screen & waited.  It was only 20 seconds or so and suddenly it flashed bright and the word "Mumsy' showed up on the screen.  I answered instantly & just said 'how bad is it' as quietly as I could so as not to wake Tim or the babies.  'It's bad' came the reply.  And in that second, I knew.  Just like I knew the phone was going to ring.  Tim had woken up & we agreed that he would go to the hospital to be with Mum & I'd stay with the babes but that his mum would come and be with me.  I couldn't do anything helpful there and if Juno woke up and I wasn't there at that point, it would have been too upsetting for her.  Not to mention Herbs was a total boob monster and was feeding every couple of hours so I couldn't have left him anyway.

Tim got dressed & his mum arrived, I remember hearing them talking quietly in the hallway whilst I sat on the sofa.  He left & we sat, quietly for most of it with bouts of chatting.  Tim had promised he'd call me as soon as he got to Mum & knew more which he did.  He told me Dad was in surgery now & that they wouldn't know anything more until he was out which would be around 5am.  They tried to get me to go to bed & get some rest but I couldn't. I had to prepare myself.  Herbs woke up, though for the first time ever, Juno didn't even stir.  Maybe she sensed something as much as I had & knew it was a night for sleeping.  I fed Herbs and sat looking at the phone again, willing it to ring.  5am came and went,  5.30am.  I knew.  A bit longer still.  Finally, at about 6.15am, the phone rang & all I heard was 'Pops, you're going to have to be here' - I knew.  And I felt so sad that my poor husband had to deliver that message.  I could hear his voice breaking.  I knew he would be as upset as me as he loved my Dad dearly.  He told me that his step dad was on his way to ours now to take me to the hospital & all I could think to do was pass the phone to his mum and go to the tumble dryer, get the nappies out and fold them.  To do something useful.  When I came back, C went to hug me and I pulled away.  I was holding it together but the second anyone was nice to me, I'd have lost it.  Jim arrived a few minutes later & I suddenly got all panicky as we couldn't take his car as I needed to take Herbie with me & his seat base was in mine.  It then meant that Jim couldn't go on to work but he obviously didn't even mention it.  I realised about 3 weeks ago that I could have in fact just used the seatbelt to put his seat in but anyway.

We didn't speak.  Well, I didn't and the closer we got to the hospital, the more sick I felt.  We parked up, got out the car & walked towards the building.  As we got to the big, spinning doors that look like they're going to swallow you, I stopped.  I gripped the handle of the pushchair so hard & stood with my feet so still they could have been glued to the ground.  Jim said something, I honestly don't remember what, but it made me walk.  I knew what I was going in there to do, and I knew that by the time I left, my Dad wouldn't be here anymore.  I'm not sure if anyone else could have made me start walking again that morning & I'll be forever thankful that he was with me.  When we got in, we headed for Resus and the Matron came straight for me.  I left Herbs with Jim & they went to sit in a little relatives room to the side.  I can still smell it, hear the noises and remember how bright the lights felt.  She put her hand around me & told me what I was going to see when we got there.  As we turned the corner, there were two little curtain covered cubicles.  The first was empty, that must mean he was in the next one.  As we walked past, there was a gap & I saw him lying there.  My mum standing next to him.  I took a deep breath and went in.  We didn't say anything, just cried and hugged for what felt like hours but was probably a minute, two at most.  We pulled apart and wiped our tears, Mum moved & I walked closer to him.  He was so still.  There were tubes and tape and noises.  And his head was bleeding.  His face looked different, partly because the arse had grown a full on beard in the week since I last saw him! I held his hand, kissed him & told him he was a dick head.  He'd have expected nothing less.  And he was.  A total dick head.  The Matron explained things to me: the fall had caused extensive internal injuries as well as a head injury.  The surgery wasn't a success and in simple terms, we were waiting for his heart to stop.  His arms were out but he had nothing on and he felt cold.  He hated being cold. We put another blanket over him and held his hands under it. Tim had left shortly after calling me to drive up to get my brother who lived 45 minutes or so away and he arrived back with him around 7.30am.  We explained what the Drs had just told me to my brother & we all stood, chatting again what a total arse he was.  And how he was never going to just go to sleep and not wake up as that would have just been too boring! It was around 8am when I noticed him start to look different.  I don't know what it was but something told me it was almost time.  At 8.15am the nurse said that this was it.  He was passing now and that sometime soon, his heart would slowly stop beating.  Tim was with Herbs so I ran to get him & we got back, I held his right hand, my brother and Mum on his left.  I kissed him and he went.  And that was it.  My Dad.  Gone.  I can't explain the feeling of holding the hand of someone you love with every part of your being as they go.  It's the strangest, most surreal thing in the world.  But also, so comforting.  We were there.  I was with him.  I was holding his hand, stroking his head.  He was surrounded by the people that he loved most in the world.  It's almost like he waited for us all to get there so he could have his big moment, much like he did in life! We said our goodbyes and went to the relatives room where Herbs was ready for a feed.  And that was it.  There was this tiny little ball of life that had no idea what was going on next door & who quite frankly, wasn't going to change his fairly demanding routine, dead Grandfather or not.  It sounds harsh but it was true.  And my Dad would have been the first one to tell me to get on with things.  We had to sign some paperwork and then they came in to tell us that he was ready for us to go back in.  The tubes had been removed, he was off his spinal board.  He looked so peaceful.  Like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.  Truly.  He looked taller.  Stronger.  Fuller faced, less drawn.  He looked like my Dad from a year or two before.  He looked better than when I'd last saw him alive & 'well' a week before.  And I cried.  I cried and cried and cried.  I cried because I was sad.  I cried because I was happy.  Nothing could hurt him now.  He could be at peace.  The pain of the years just gone couldn't hurt him now, nor could the memories or the people.  Nothing.  And as much as I would have given anything, anything, for it to be different, it wasn't.  And now, we had to start to our new 'normal'.  Our life without Dad.

And I'm going to leave it there for now before I turn into one of those super ugly, snotty tear monsters.  I don't know if it's because it's Fathers Day, or the run up to the anniversary of the accident, but I needed to get that down somewhere.  Maybe I'm worried I'll forget.  Who knows.  And maybe I'll come back tomorrow and get some of the background down.  But for now, I'm going to go and kiss my babies another time, pour another drink and toast my auld man.  I love you Dad.  And I miss you.  So much.