Notes from my 2025 Diary - DAD (aka Pogsy)

Edited, mostly for location identifiers... although I really do call the local shop 'not-Athwal'. Additional comments in red.

TRIGGER WARNING!!!
This is my notes leading up to, and describing, the death of my father. It's also quite sweary.

It was going through my diary re: mum that made me realise there were warning signs before I had realised. I'm really glad I decided to put all this in one timeline because, once again, it's not exactly how I remember it going.

1 Jan - Dad's not well.

2 Jan - Dad said "I'm sorry about having a go at you about money yesterday" and then proceeded to have a go at me about money today. 

11 Jan - Dad went off at me for saying 'Kia ora' AGAIN. This time with a full-on rant of how I shouldn't speak foreign languages in, and I quote, HIS COUNTRY. Racist old bastard.

I have been trying out 'Kia ora' because mum has traumatised me with the word 'hello'.

12 Jan - When I got back home dad was a dickhead about keeping the vegan and non vegan stuff from cross contamination.

My dad could be such a jerk. I've been vegan since 2014 following a realisation in 2012 that I'm probably lactose intolerant (GP refused to test). This isn't new; it's both a protected ethical stance and vital to my health. In hindsight I wonder how much of this was his usual bloody-minded argumentative streak and how much may have been missed warning signs that something was going seriously wrong.

15 Jan - Mum agreed to go out AGAIN much to dad's horror. Poor old fart. He's really feeling the cold this winter...

17 Jan - Dad had some gastric trouble and was also accepting he needs more exercise but will NOT go [place name redacted] and will NOT explain why.

18 Jan - ...walked Pogsy round the block. He tried walking fast to BRING DOWN HIS BLOOD PRESSURE. I worry about that idiot.

20 Jan - Took mum for a loop up to the doctor's surgery (her last trip out). Dad had a hissy fit that the way back (via park) was *so much* further. Got home and showed him on Google Maps - way there 0.8 miles, way back 1.1 miles. Total of 3.06km which is SHORTER than our (usual) meadow loop (which he walks easily)

22 Jan - Rang dad to help get [mum] up as per usual and he asked me to come round. Uh oh. He's not well. Breathless. Couldn't lift her. More than a bit worried about the state of him.
He accepted being here all day with no complaints.

This is so important to me. This is the real indicator that there was trouble looming. He was breathless BEFORE the 'flu, and accepting being here so I can watch over him shows something's up. He did not take kindly to being 'babysat'. He lived right next door but leaving mum to go check on him was increasingly problematic.

27 Jan - Dad called me out into the garden cos the sky was all pink... at sunset!

Sure, he's 82 but he's not doolally. I really should've seen this confusion as more alarming than funny.

31 Jan - contracted the 'flu which I later passed to dad. Until the time of writing (28 Jul) I had believed that giving him that lurgy is what ultimately killed him.

7 Feb - He sat up to take some paracetamol, yelled my name three times and yeeted himself into a weird faceplant situation. Bloody hell.

9 Feb - Dad continues unwell. Erin been checking in on him.

10 Feb - Dad still abed also.

14 Feb - Mum died. Dad came round for a bit to see her.

15 Feb - Went to see Pogsy. He hasn't slept.

22 Feb - Today I walked dad up to the bottle bank & back. This is because (a) he is still feeling very poorly (he had to stop multiple times inc. sitting on both benches) and (b) the Donkee (an oversized Sholley Trolley - that's literally what it's called) was getting worryingly full.

24 Feb - I don't like dad's colour.

I *think* this was when I asked dad if he was having a heart attack. This is why he booked the doctor's appointment (18 Mar). This is where I thought it began. Ten days after mum.

25 Feb - accompanied him to a routine hospital appointment.

I had been unavailable to escort him previously because I was looking after mum, but he also would never have asked if he felt up to going alone.

26 Feb - Walked dad up to the [bottle bank] again. He's not just sickly, he's now got anxiety / panic attacks because he's feeling weak and vulnerable.

This 'anxiety' may well also be a symptom of what was underlying...

27 Feb - Walked the Pogsy

2 Mar - Dad's decided to forego his walk and isn't coming back out.

6 Mar - Dad's obviously feeling better - went around to check on him and he picked TWO (2) separate arguments so I left the grumpy old sod to his own devices for the rest of the day - some peace and quiet at last!

17 Mar - Dad wants me to go with him to the doctors tomorrow.

18 Mar - walked dad home (from the doctors) because he needed to test it out - he has to go back for an ECG tomorrow morning before his bus pass kicks in. He managed it, but not well.

Typical Pogsy. Use the bus pass or walk, there is no 'buy a ticket' option. Can't possibly spend money!

19 Mar - Escorted dad up to the doctors and he had the ECG - he's being referred to the hospital for a proper one.
Yep, we're into some scary territory. He has atrial arrhythmia.

There was also a lot of drama re: prescriptions this day as they raced to get him on a whole bunch of medications. This was properly out of nowhere so he wasn't on any of them already. He had other health issues but nothing heart-related.

20 Mar - Dad chasing up doctors, two pharmacists, and 111 because his new meds are contraindicated! He has Reynaud's, low BP, dizziness, etc. which all come under the "do not take if" heading.

21 Mar - The doctor has told dad to take the meds - low blood pressure and Reynaud's be damned!

This still seems bonkers to me. Heart medications seem to presume hypertension. You shouldn't have to trade off one medical condition to treat another.

24 Mar - Dad's got a semi-urgent appointment at [the hospital for a pre-existing situation] tomorrow.

25 Mar - So we went to the [hospital] & dad got checked. He's okay but they're having him back for tests first thing on Thursday so there's obviously some concern.

Partly mild symptoms, partly the new cardiac complication.

27 Mar - Hospital with Pogsy again.

31 Mar - Dad had wanted to come to town with me the following day but... Don't think it's going to happen though. I went to fetch him for dinner and he couldn't make it across his damn patio! Poor old man was crying - I've never seen him cry before. Not when my mum died, not when HIS mum died, not even when Guinny died (family cat, 1990).
THIS IS BAD.

1 Apr - Dad did go to town; I left him at the bus stop, hared up there and met him off the bus!

Then we walked home. Dad was very slow & puffing, had to stop a few times but he made it.
Also, he used a walking pole in public! So proud of him.

Like many men he was initially resistant to using a stick, frame, or wheelchair - especially in public. Later on I'd have to bully him a bit - if he wanted to stay at home he'd have to play it safe to avoid falls.

2 Apr - Dad has been Googling pneumonia [...] is it possible the heart issue is all (or mostly) down to a chest infection?!

5 Apr - Dad said he was 'fine' and 'can you take me to A&E tomorrow?' in the same sentence.

6 Apr - So, my guess of pneumonia was wrong. *DAD IS IN HEART FAILURE*
50 days since mum. Bloody hell.
The ER doctor was perfectly nice but didn't sugar-coat it - my dad has TMB - too many birthdays.
His pulse is erratic and fluctuating 112-131BPM. For a 60-79 yr old (I couldn't find 82) 86-95 is 'poor'.
His oxygen levels are great but he's struggling to breathe because (a) his heart is running a marathon (b) fluid is building up around his lungs.
He's been admitted to AMU (where mum was first week in [the hospital]) put on diuretics and a fluid restriction.

This was honestly pretty awful, remembering mum getting wheeled into that same ward. Then there was getting Erin aside (who'd stayed in the A&E waiting room until admission) so I could break the news to her away from Pogsy.

Hopefully we won't need it but I got him to tell me [his EPoA] still existed and where he thought it was (it wasn't but we found it).

Dad has asked if he can move in or if I will go next door [his house] cos he's scared they won't discharge him to live alone.
Of course.
Have plotted out a selection of plans depending on where we find ourselves.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK 

7 Apr - did a load of shopping so dad has a dedicated hospital bag given that admissions are likely. Dad was discharged at 7pm. THIS WAS HIS *ONLY* NIGHT IN HOSPITAL EVER.

8 Apr - Dad had a shower at mine - didn't go well.
I am unlikely to be going back to work. FML.
Still going ahead with the playroom but arranging it so he can move in for next winter - figuring out how the library can be a TV room for him as easier to keep warm.

9 Apr - dad's first appointment at VACU - issued with mini ECG gizmo and BP monitor. Dad had a new will written; in part due to illness but mostly because of stuff that came to light dealing with mum's affairs.

Today I did dad's whiteboard cos he's struggling to keep track of his meds.

Everyone has LOVED the whiteboard - doctors, nurses, paramedics... the coroner's people. Not only a great way to keep track of things but absolutely brilliant when you're struggling to remember basic info cos you're sick or in shock. But starting dad's so soon after erasing mum's was quite challenging.

13 Apr - Had a really weird dream that was more like a "visitation"... only it was my dad. Definitely weird as he's still alive!

I remember this... it's like I was aware I was sleeping and I felt him come in and scoop me up like I was a little kid...

14 Apr - Dad's oh-so-urgent appt was a BP check and a blood test because of the new meds. Absolute pisstake and so much stress - could've done it at tomorrow's appointment which is now cancelled.

They'd tried to call him in on a Sunday when there are no buses to the hospital and taxis cost more.

15 Apr - back to the hospital for ECG and Holter fitting. This was when the 'original' GP referral for an ECG was supposed to be. Things went sideways A LOT so that didn't happen.

16 Apr -  Why my dad can't stay quiet for maybe 20 seconds so I can hear the ping that the ECG email has sent I have no idea. Dropped the Holter off.

23 Apr - Got dad's will witnessed in the evening.

24 Apr - Dad got his echo for all his heart rate is still way too fast (116/117 regardless of medications through the whole ordeal). They told us his heart ejection factor [sic] is 10-15% (should be 50%+) a normal ejection fraction is actually 55-70% and according to dad's records his was 17%. He's been told he's at the more severe end of the heart failure spectrum but there's still things they can try, including yet more drugs (cardioversion and ablation mentioned)

26 Apr - Around 4pm dad called. I had Erni come as I had heebie-jeebies. A good job too! He was having chest pain and while I was assessing him VACU called and they told me to call and ambulance - so I did!
Possibly angina or reflux but it was at least a false alarm. Got in at a few minutes to midnight.

Honestly, this much stress and exertion for someone in heart failure can't be good?

30 Apr -  Different doctor (at VACU). Had to go over EVERYTHING again. Apparently dad's records say he had a BPM in the seventies last week... bullcrap! It dipped briefly into the 90s at A&E on Saturday but we've never got anywhere close to that!
He was quite grim about how little there is they can offer for now and is asking Cardiology to see him sooner than June.

I killed my dad, didn't I? I got the fucking 'flu, gave it to him, and now he's going to die cos he's old and the meds aren't working. Shit.

And now I can see - via my own observations - that he was actually unwell before he got my 'flu. Probably that exacerbated it but it's not my fault.

1 May - Got home to discover dad very not well & freaked out cos I wasn't home (he knew I was going to [town]). I have apologised for messing him up and he says it's not my fault but it feels like it is. Dad actually staggered round later. He's worried by me being upset - OF COURSE I'M BLOODY UPSET! - and he wanted to check up on me.

On this day dad got taken off one of his regular meds due to the heart failure... and the removal of that drug from his regimen let in part to his death.

3 May - Cleared out the suntrap.

Dad loved working in his garden but I am so happy he finally got to just sit out there and enjoy it... The suntrap was filled with old buckets, watering cans, and plant pots as well as being practically inaccessible with weeds.

Dad's worst home ECG to date - so many blips! Also, all BPs under 90, all BPMs around 118.

5 May - Got excited about dad's BPM - 73 & 60! Of course, it was a fucking glitch -117 & 120. It was nice to experience the joy of how it'd be for the meds to finally work but I guess that means it'll never happen.
Honestly, I've been through a lot of shit, these past 7 years especially, but today was HORRIFIC.

7 May - Visit to VACU. He used the wheelchair for the first time.

9 May - Discharged from VACU as cardiology are picking him up from Monday

11 May - Dad's really not well [...] did him an ECG this morning with a BPM of 120 and a really irregular graph (skipping every third beat).

12 May - The long awaited Cardiac appointment was a bust. They have 'tweaked' his meds back to a dosage he's been on before and told him to come back in FOUR WEEKS! No mention of the cardioversion or anything else. We reckon they've given up. He's being referred to some community cardiac care team. BP machine & ECG gizmo returned to VACU.
Dad needed the wheelchair almost the whole time today.

I was so angry. VACU had been checking in with us almost every day and seeing him at least twice each week and then it's all 'see you in a month'?! The drugs aren't going to miraculously start working - he needed a cardioversion scheduled.

13 May - Dad had a dizzy spell. Face planted the bed. Called me to help him up. Then I taught him (willing to learn) to use the walking frame.
The 4 wk appt came through - with a cardiac NURSE. They've definitely given up.

17 May - Got a message from B to go check on dad because he had a "question". Apparently he didn't have a question - B had told him to get me to stay over! So here I am, doing as B tells me - back on my sofa in the attic [at dad's].

20 May - I am so glad B came to see dad - it's been years but he misses her dreadfully.

21 May - Dad had a really bad day. Late afternoon he came over all dizzy and loopy and when I was trying to reassure him / get him vertical he was flailing almost seizure-like.
Early evening he had a similar thing only in bed and couldn't get up.
It's all quite frightening.

23 May - It started at 0530 when dad rang his bell. He'd got stuck on his back so I righted him.
At 0830 it happened again and OMG he was deathly pale - his face matched his HAIR!

Not doing great. It's hard seeing dad deteriorate so rapidly.

1 June - Got dad moved in. Lots of going back and forth for me. He only did the single one-way trip but he's really done-in from it.

I had redecorated the room mum had been using. New carpet and everything. By this point he really needed the medical bed (which was actually our property, along with the wheelchair, walking frame and almost all of mum's care supplies. The few loaner items had long since been returned.)

4 June - Dad sat out for a bit but there was a helicopter miles away and the noise totally did him in.

8 June - Dad wanted to go round to his house and clear out his fridge so we did that... and in it I found a Glyceryl Trinitrate spray prescribed to my dad NINE YEARS AGO. I *knew* there was a mention of angina years ago but [when I brought it up] dad yelled at me and called me a liar.

9 June - Dad had a bad day to start with. Went to bed mid morning then didn't get up for lunch. Instead he wanted to face the other way... and missed! Could only get out of that position by doing a Mork-from-Ork impression. Then he 'walked' round the bed and got in from the other side.
He got up mid afternoon, had his lunch (slowly) and snoozed for a while... Then he kind of snapped out of it and was fine for the afternoon - went out and sat in the suntrap!

10 June - Got woken up mid-dream by dad - rushed in and he wasn't there! Instead he was in the kitchen, on his knees, head in the fridge and rather stuck. Got him up eventually, he had his breakfast, a puff, and went back to bed to recover!
Got the call from the community cardiac team. Bloody hopeless. All the same questions, making stupid statements like the drugs are working, and then I had to go full Karen to get him a home visit WHICH IS WHAT WE WERE WAITING ON THIS CALL FOR.
Got a call from [GP surgery] - dad's DNR is READY FOR COLLECTION. What the actual fuck?! They didn't even need to see him?? Talk to HIM??

Again, so angry. First at the community cardiac care team who didn't even want to see him despite being desperately ill. Second at the GP surgery for issuing a DNR without discussing it with HIM. I didn't even have power of attorney for him - I thought the questions I'd answered were a precursor to them coming out to assess his situation!

11 June - Dad had a total bitch fit because he wouldn't answer whether he wanted his lunch?! and because he asked a stupid question?! Anyway, he's stropped off back to his house.
Honestly, I think he's had some kind of 'event' today but I've had enough of his shit over the years.
Brought dad back c. 10:30pm. He's not very well.

12 June - Dad continues pretty poorly - hallucinations may be ominous.

13 June - Dad's still spinning. I rather think he's shutting down. It's awful because he seems more aware of it [than mum did].
Dad went out in the garden three times today. He's really struggling but at least he's enjoying that.

15 June - FATHER'S DAY. Dad had post including an NHS letter saying he's in heart failure stage 3 which is just bollocks. It's stage 4 for sure.

We're not medically trained but my daughters and I each researched this and the criteria are plainly stated. We even have a later letter - dated about 10 days before he died - stating he was stage 2 to stage 3. We laughed at that. Ludicrous.

18 June - Dad's community cardiac nurse appt was... weird. She couldn't even work her won ECG machine! BP was 90 over something. BPM 117 like always. This seemed to bother her for some reason.
The nurse called insisting we went to A&E. She told me she'd spoken to a cardiologist and they wanted to see him.
THIS WAS A LIE.
She called out an ambulance. The paramedics also talked us into going. At A&E [the male paramedic] (who was several sandwiches short of a picnic) said he'd spoken to someone from cardiology at admission.
THIS WAS ALSO A LIE.
A&E had no idea why we were there as there were no new symptoms, no worsening, no changes at all. There was also no contact with cardiology but they wanted to admit him [...] dad did a big "fuck that" and discharged himself against advice.
Despite being told he couldn't walk [...] into A&E we walked out of A&E and caught the [bus] home.
Total bloody pisstake IMHO. Never been impressed with NHS but this total lack of joined-up thinking is beyond ridiculous.

Again: angry. Not only incredibly dishonest but entirely too much stress to put him through for no damn reason.

20 June - AMAZING NEWS!! Dad has *finally* been booked in for his cardioversion on 8 July (2 1/2 weeks). No guarantees of course but they're finally gonna *try* and he may feel a lot better for it.

I hadn't held out much hope for this appointment but given dad's attendance at A&E two days earlier the nurse had got straight on to a cardiologist about a referral on seeing his notes! I was beyond grateful. 
That evening I was at a gig in Wales, on quite the high thinking he might finally get 'better' and I'd have my dad around for a bit longer. Even if *only* the six to twelve months life expectancy that stage 4 has. As it was - diagnosis of heart failure to death was slightly shy of THREE months.

23 June - Planted mum's [memorial] magnolia today. Had a bit of a job getting it in [...] dad, the blithering idiot, came out and did some digging. Had a bit of a freak out...

Later this day I had a failed bonfire in dad's garden - I set fire to the actual garden! Erin and I had a mad time trying to put it out!

Dad took the news fairly well - the damage was pretty limited, thank the gods.

24 June - Rough night with dad. Chest pain, couldn't get up, couldn't get comfortable. I really hope the cardioversion helps but I can't help worrying it'll happen again and he'll have to suffer this all over (and over?)

25 June - Dad having a really rough day.
Didn't get out of bed until about 11am. Had a couple of lie-downs. Went back to bed by 4pm - breathing difficulties, coughing up froth, couldn't get comfy. 
Got up for an hour or so about 7pm, then crawled back in his pit.
Only ate his bao meal today.
Asked me to message B not to call / text him cos he's feeling so rough.

Erin told me she has the heebie-jeebies about the 8th of July. Can't shake the feeling he'll die soon. Somewhere around here I suggested the 4th of July... I didn't write it down but Erin will vouch for me.

28 June - Dad had an okay day yesterday... up until the evening where he suddenly went all squiffy, started shaking like a leaf. Had to hold him for a good while.
Today has been TERRIBLE. He's only been out of bed to go to the loo; nausea, retching, vomiting. Not fun.

29 June - Dad a little more vertical today.

30 June - I was incredibly sick overnight with what I took to be heat exhaustion (which I also presumed explained dad's unwellness)

I can hear dad up and down to the loo like a yo-yo and I'm well aware I can't look after him when I'm like this. I feel like death.
He's really very not well but still adamant he doesn't want to go to hospital.

1 July - Dad had another terrible night. About 5am I got Erin up for a second opinion. We decided to call an ambulance (A).
They also thought it was a raging UTI (the penny only dropped for me at 5am) but in other news:
His BPM was 62
His BP was 140-something over 60-something
I.E. NORMAL. Fucking hell!!
Keeping Erni home today (B) so she can get the 'script (the paramedics liaised with the GP for a prescription for antibiotics) and be on duty so I can have a rest.
Last night 45 mins sleep
Night before 5 hours, almost continuous.
One before that, 4 hours, in 3 bits.
Less than 10 hours sleep in 72. Feeling quite shit on top of still being sickly.
Erin got the meds.
Dad continues exceedingly rough.
In the evening he lost the plot, did some weird counting (C), and asked if we "won".
He failed a stroke test but mostly due to a lack of cooperation. He was a good bit more himself after being unceremoniously hosed off in a cold shower (D).

(A) As much as he didn't want to run the risk of another admission we were only a week from his cardioversion appointment - simply couldn't risk him being too sick to have it after all this. The UTI was likely a result of the medicine he was taken off back on 1 May.
In hindsight I should have realised that those 'normal' readings after months of really bad ones was ominous AF.
(B) I wouldn't normally ask Erin to stay home to help like that; she had very few days off to help with mum although I'd had dad to help with her most of the time. I've been sick whilst caring before - flu, colds, covid twice, a bad reaction to having a tooth extracted, once a bad reaction to a pizza (99.9% sure I didn't get the vegan one I'd ordered) - but I am seven years run down and I simply couldn't cope.
Dad was almost certainly no heavier than mum (she was a chonk to the end) but he was taller so I couldn't lift him so well - I'm 5' 8", mum had shrunk a bit from her original 5' 6", and dad was still about 5' 11".
(C) I swear my mum did something VERY similar during one of her 'turns' (possibly further strokes) so it was very disconcerting.
(D) This wasn't cruelty: my thermometer is faulty, he was running a wicked fever.

2 July - Another bad night - two huge shaking fits (1st at least 1 1/2 hours, 2nd more like an hour) and several rounds of vomiting. Also gastrointestinal distress. Getting his meds down = huge challenge.

Erin off work again to help. This is BAD.

3 July - It's 4:30am and I've barely had an hour's sleep.
There's been visits to the loo... There's been vomiting / spitting... There's been uncomfortable and shivering. There's been the 'emergency' of "is my stomach bloated?" Like dude, I have no idea. You're sick, you're on a lot of meds, you're not eating (less than can of fruit salad yesterday), your muscle tone & posture have gone all squiffy.
Anyway, at 4:30 there was [an event] that required Erni to come help with a shower.
Poor kid but the nights are the WORST.

Erin managed to get to work today but in consequence dad had to suffer the indignities of the commode because I couldn't get him to the bathroom safely alone.
We did our first and, as it happens, ONLY bed bath that night.

4 July - Another badly disturbed night. Erin and I were up to dad about 4:30am again. He called for help but once on the commode was all of a flop - staring ahead and totally unresponsive. He was so much like mum just before she died... so I naively thought we might be in our final couple of weeks.
Afterwards Erin and I had a bit of a heart-to-heart. I finally acknowledged the cardioversion wouldn't be happening. I could also see that I wasn't going to be able to look after him solo. We decided that I would look after him as bed-bound today, see what the weekend brought and make a decision from there.
Then he called us back.
Another commode flop / stare / unresponsive episode. It was about 5:30am when we all got back to bed. Dad must've died right after...

Independence Day... apt for becoming an orphan.
Also easy to remember like mum and Valentine's Day.
I found mum at 7:40pm; Erin looked in on dad at 7:40am... and came to tell me he didn't seem to be breathing. I went and checked. Unlike mum he was very definitely gone.
20 weeks apart.

It was all incredibly fast in comparison to what mum endured. Erin has stated more than once that dad went through mum's seven years of decline in the last week alone... and she's right.

Notes from my 2025 diary - MUM

Edited, mostly for location identifiers... although I really do call the local shop 'not-Athwal'. Additional comments in red.

TRIGGER WARNING!!!
This is my notes leading up to, and describing, the death of my mother.

1 Jan - And so, most implausibly, my mother has made it into another year!

Having suffered a severe, dual hemisphere stroke in April 2018 mum had further illnesses and events that, by the start of our reminiscences here, had left her almost entirely incapacitated.

2 Jan - Mum has been mostly asleep today. No obvious signs of trouble... but that only suggests this is a 'proper' decline rather than an illness.

3 Jan - Mum continueth sleepily.

4 Jan - Described a dream wherein mum got up (despite being fully immobile in reality) and went to a university lecture in a non-wheelchair accessible basement auditorium. I tried to follow her but got waylaid - then couldn't get in.
Honestly, it (the dream) was laden with symbolism - stopping short of hearing her old voice once more.
It was not prophetic (for today at least) but it has been somewhat of a 'rally'. She *should* have been wiped out by the full wash we gave her but after lunch SHE ASKED TO GO FOR A WALK [1]. Such a thing has never happened and for probably the last six months she's only been out of her room under extreme duress! But walk her we did.

6 Jan - Mum asked to go out AGAIN!! [2] I can hardly believe it. Dad and I managed to get her out and in by ourselves just fine. Unfortunately the river path was flooded so we did [...] just up CML along H, across thingummybob, down V and via the footpath.

7 Jan - Had already been up to town shopping when mum wanted a bacon butty (!) so I went back out for the fixings

Mum was helloing something awful tonight. When Erni came in to help her to bed she shouted: HELLLLOOOOO!! To which Erin responded: Buongiorno. Mum went: Hell...OH! and did a wide-eyed toddleresque startle. It was HILARIOUS!

My mum got caught in loops of saying 'hello' over and over. The word now stresses me out.

8 Jan - Mum's pretty 'off' again. Today she's eaten two fried egg sandwiches. No idea what's up.

My mum loved eggs. They did not love her back. Mum was allergic to raw / lightly cooked eggs (no flu or covid vaccines for her!) but at home I could be sure to cook them thoroughly... and any mistakes in that department I would be dealing with. Really unusual for her to want two sandwiches though, nice to see her with an appetite.

10 Jan - Went to not-Athwals because mum wanted egg sandwiches and cherry cakes - obliged on both.

Again, appetite is great but also her putting in requests was quite unusual.

11 Jan - Mum is back to doing fairly rubbish. She's not eating much, didn't drink a whole lot today, unhappy, muchas moaning & groaning & helloing.

14 Jan - Mum was pretty depressed / fearful last night so I camped in on her floor again.
Had a weird in-between sleep where I could *almost* hear her calling 'Heggie' in something akin to her old voice, yet sounding more like distant bells - whilst simultaneously hearing her snore.
Several times in the night the silence was startling.

This is particularly noteworthy looking back, as it was exactly a month before she passed.

Mum opted for ANOTHER walk today [3]. Now she's knackered but insisting on sitting up so I am watching Knives Out at her.

Mum disliked Knives Out. I think it was probably that she couldn't process Marta's accent, but also the plotline is quite complex. It says a lot that she tolerated me watching it.

15 Jan - Mum agreed to go out AGAIN [4] much to dad's horror. Poor old fart. He's really feeling the cold this winter but it's great mum's remembered the outside world exists.

16 Jan - Skipped mum's wash and got her up to Town! Yes, REALLY!! [5]

Mum had a coughing fit after her crumpets (really quite alarming) - she didn't lose her lunch but then she wanted more... and then more again!

This is noteworthy as (a) if mum had a coughing fit she'd usually declare she would never ever again eat / drink whatever happened to be there at the time, (b) where did that appetite come from?!

Went round to not-Athwals for her wishlist of sandwiches, nuts, biscuits AND CIDER!! What even?! It's 13:54 and she's sipping on a tropical Strongbow!

I asked her what she wanted, she asked what they had, I rattled off some random things, and she said 'yes'! Couldn't believe she actually drank the cider when it arrived.

Mum is sad and helloing this afternoon.

19 Jan - Got mum out for a walk [6 - her last with Neville]

20 Jan - Took mum for a loop up to the doctor's surgery. [7 - which is probably more times she left the house than in the ENTIRETY of 2024]

Mum had a weird incident tonight - telling me her baby was wrong.

I am her only child.

27 Jan - Mum was up past 1am watching Miss Marple.

28 Jan - I had to go to not-Athwals cos mum wanted Nutella.

5 Feb - Very off - no weight bearing - no gripping. Almost completely unresponsive. No eye-contact - no sounds, etc, etc. Mum hasn't eaten or drunk anything since midday yesterday. This doesn't worry me - not only is the woman part camel but she's entirely asleep and in no distress.

It's worth noting here that over a previous winter she had a 'rough patch' LASTING THREE MONTHS where she barely ate or drank anything... maybe 500ml a day and a handful of bites of food each week. When she finally perked up again we were in shock. Really changed my perception of what is survivable.

7 Feb - ...she ASKED FOR A DRINK which had me shooketh.

8 Feb - She may have decided to live a bit longer. Drank two pots of water while potted. Mum had a SANDWICH at lunchtime!

9 Feb - Mum continues unwell, uncooperative but sats steady. She hasn't eaten today. It's all pretty grim but I fear L may be right & my mother's an immortal!

This may sound callous but while she may have briefly enjoyed things - be it an episode of Vera or her 80th birthday celebration the previous October - mum's quality of life by this time was exceedingly poor. None of us feared her dying anymore.

10 Feb - No eats, no drinks, no change.

11 Feb - I was in with mum again last night. She kept telling me off for snoring.

Mum helloing something awful this afternoon. Then it got worse because it morphed into "Hallelujah" with an even greater frequency. FREAKY. AS. FUCK.

She was helloing at a rate of roughly every 30-40 seconds; the hallelujahs were every 20. It was JUST like in Doctor WHO - Miss Evangelista: "I can't think, I don't know, I-, I-, I-, ice cream, ice cream" (see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gO1rsPxHY48). It went from hello to hel to h- to hal- to hallelujah. That scene is so much harder to watch now.
Mum wasn't religious. She hadn't set foot in a church except for family baptisms, weddings, or funerals in decades.

12 Feb - Mum has continued helloing

Weirdly, my memory cuts off at the hallelujahs...

I didn't note it in my diary but she was particularly unresponsive during her evening wash. When I lifted her Erin noted her eyes were open and said 'Oh, hello!' but got no response. That was the last time her eyes were open.

13 Feb - Reckon mum's comatose. She didn't stir, even when we washed her tonight. Her BPM has hit a high of 102 and a low of 25. Neither of which presented differently. Dad & Neville have been warned. I opened N's Valentine card and read it to mum.

Similarly this didn't worry me; it was what we expected of a normal dying process. So long as we could keep her clean, warm, comfortable there was no cause for alarm.

14 Feb - Turned mum at about 0915 with limited success - and again at 1610 with even less. Breathing has become more erratic. Can't get a BPM/O2% reading. This was written at 1707.

We finished the wash at about 7pm. Erin sat with her for about 10 minutes, I went back in at 1940 (half an hour after she was last seen alive). The erratic breathing had stopped, I couldn't sense any breathing at all. Mum had an undetectable carotid pulse anyway - an idiosyncrasy that's quite awkward at this juncture. The pulse oximeter hadn't produced a reading in hours... I wasn't nearly as sure as I needed to be - we had to call out an ambulance to confirm she was gone.  
She was taken away a little before 1am on the 15th. She was warm for hours and could easily have passed for sleeping throughout.

Rant-19

The advert ends on the note: "look them in the eyes and tell them you're doing all you can to stop the spread of Covid-19"

WHY??? The vast majority of people who contract Covid-19 do not get seriously ill. Indeed, at least a third never develop any symptoms at all. Yet all are obliged - by law and by force and by threat and by fine - to suffer for a proportionally small minority. And now they add emotional blackmail.

Let's have them, those who are seriously ill, those who have lost loved ones, LOOK THE REST OF THE POPULATION IN THE EYES and say I don't give a fuck for your life, your death, your mental health, your education, your future. Because that's what it boils down to. Sure, if you get covid or lose someone to it that SUCKS but so does cancer or stroke or heart disease or cot death or suicide or any disease under the sun.

Babies are suffering abnormal development and non-existent socialisation. This is the largest involuntary social experiment of all time and may well have lifelong negative consequences. https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/coronavirus-babies-toddlers-education-development-school-playgrounds-b1042852.html

Children are losing out on their educations. Disruption in the early years we have known for decades is immensely harmful but we also have kids getting 'results' for exams not sat! IF my daughter graduates this summer it will be from having HALF her time at university stripped away. £9000 per year student debt for NO support, NO services, NO library, NO facilities and precious little by way of education. https://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/1390586/coronavirus-news-university-students-fees-online-learning Will her degree even be respected by employers who'll know she didn't attend lectures?!

We are facing a mental health crisis of unparalleled proportions. From the obvious stresses of those on the 'frontlines' https://www.theguardian.com/education/2021/jan/31/covid-stress-driving-hundreds-of-childcare-workers-to-quit-profession to the parents who're trying to work full-time from home while trying to teach their kids full time; or people like me who are caring for a loved one with no support and no respite. We're told to 'Protect the NHS' but the NHS has an appalling track record for mental health support. I told my GP I was suicidal; he replied "I don't care", it was SIX YEARS between my kid's suicide and the eventual referral to CAHMS. There'll be multi-generational depression, PTSD, social anxiety, eating disorders and substance abuse. TBH my family already had all of this BEFORE so you can only imagine what a mess we'll be afterwards. Then there's postnatal depression https://www.itv.com/news/2020-12-18/how-covid-restrictions-are-fuelling-a-postnatal-depression-crisis putting mother & baby's lives at risk. This is not a society but a sham; we are not supporting each other, we're cowering in fear and leaving the most vulnerable exposed.

Businesses are going belly-up at an alarming rate https://www.telegraph.co.uk/business/0/job-losses-uk-coronavirus-covid/ the future is a terrifying prospect of unemployment, crushing national debt, devastating poverty, and empty high-streets. Y'all can argue that you can't put a price on people's lives but POVERTY KILLS.

People are suffering and dying of covid alone which is horrific and inhumane https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/stories-55725812 but what of the (so far) hundreds of thousands of people who're suffering and dying alone of other causes or the (so far) tens of thousands of people whose cancer diagnoses have been delayed or missed entirely https://www.ajmc.com/view/diagnostic-delays-from-covid19-may-increase-cancerrelated-deaths-uk-studies-say.

Death rites are vitally important for the grieving process but we're severely limiting this crucial rite of passage from denying people contact with their loved ones to preventing funeral attendance. When my cousin Allister was dying of brain cancer his parents did a mercy dash to his bedside; his funeral was attended by hundreds. It was still devastating, especially for his parents, burying a second son in a year and a half, but seeing him one last time, seeing the church at standing-room only must've been some small comfort. To think of people like them being denied that is agonising.

"During the national lockdown, no more than 6 people can attend commemorative events such as stone setting ceremonies, the scattering of ashes or a wake." - www.gov.uk

Six people isn't even the immediate family in many instances!

Telling parents they can't even support each other at the side of their premature and critically ill baby is one of the most horrific, inexcusable things I can imagine https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-lancashire-55840222 unless it's not being able to register and grieve a baby's loss https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-sussex-52663205. Or perhaps this https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/coronavirus-heartbreak-teenagers-funeral-limited-21741773 to lose a child after a life-long illness; having anticipated a celebration of her life as a means for the parents to cope with her loss only to have to settle for near enough nothing. It's beyond cruel.

Look a child in the eyes and tell them their education and future doesn't matter.

Look a stressed out and desperate single mother in the eyes and tell her that her isolation and trauma don't matter. Say it again over the grave of the baby she smothered when it all got too much.

Look a man who's gone bankrupt in the eyes and tell him that losing his business, his home, his relationship and his self-respect to the lockdowns isn't as important as a stranger's health. Look his widow in the eyes after he dies of suicide and say it again.

Look an old woman in the eyes and tell her she can't say goodbye to her husband at the end of her life. Tell her she can't see the children and grandchildren she now hasn't seen in a YEAR. Tell those children that they can't offer their father comfort at her funeral.

If you can do any one of those things you're a truly horrible person. But we're all sitting in our homes, protecting our own miserable little lives and allowing this to happen. History is not going to judge us kindly. The moment I knew we were beyond salvation was when the churches locked their doors. The faithful ministering to the sick and dying during times of plague is inspiring; this is the opposite. We have withdrawn kindness under the false guise of protecting others.

One person's life or death is not more important than another's; the many should not be sacrificed for the few.

Humans are mortal; we're all going to die. Diseases are normal and natural, especially one like this that kills the elderly and the chronically ill - the reason the 1918 flu pandemic was so horrifying was that it killed the young and otherwise healthy. Yet in 2009 when the Swine Flu pandemic killed children and pregnant women NOTHING closed, nothing changed. My kid had it - she wasn't tested or seen by a doctor; her school didn't close or even do a deep clean. She survived, 392 others didn't... but at the time of the first lockdown only 400 or so people had died in the UK. How come nothing was done on the back of nearly 400 YOUNG deaths when the entire country was shut for just over 400 primarily OLD people?! Sure, a lot more have died now but thousands die in every seasonal flu outbreak but we go on as usual. Our population is aged and unhealthy, people have been dying at proportionally slower rates for decades. The population crisis has been under discussion for years - we NEED a pandemic to redress the balance and, for the survival of the species, this isn't even the tip of the iceberg.

In 1900 the world population was approx. 1.6 billion; now it's nearly 7.8 billion and that's with two World Wars (WWI 15-22,000,000 dead; WWII 20-85,000,000 dead), the 1918 pandemic 17-100,000,000 dead), HIV/AIDS (32,700,000 dead), and the advent of birth control! More than quadrupled in 120 years with HUGE losses. Covid's currently at 2,230,000. The death toll, taken alone or in proportion to population, just doesn't warrant the devastation the INTERVENTIONS are wreaking.

I'm not afraid of covid; of dying myself or losing loved ones to it. I'm afraid of surviving this hell and trying to rebuild. People dying is sad but IMHO people who wrap themselves in cotton wool and leave the rest of 'society' to rot aren't worth saving.

The God, the Goddess, and the Girl

When my grandparents died, many years ago, and only a few weeks apart, I envisioned my grandfather who had passed first rejuvenated as the young groom he had once been - but instead of awaiting his bride at the alter he was awaiting her at the pearly gates. When she passed she was returned to her youthful state, radiant and joyful, reunited with her husband. It was a comforting vision.
Recently I heard of a child's passing which let to a rather different imaginary scenario. The name is deliberately omitted as it could apply to anyone with such a disability; this is not intended to represent their experience and I mean no disrespect.

An original expression by Rev'd Heggie Speller (ULC)

The God and the Goddess stand at the edge of the forest, looking out into the clearing. The God wears heavy robes in autumn gold and russet, he wears a magnificent pair of golden antlers on his head; he has a long bushy beard entwined with ivy, flowers and pine-cones. The Goddess looks rather like the girl's mother did - just before she brought home a baby brother. The Goddess' robes are floaty and pale, silvery like her skin.

The God and the Goddess stand at the edge of the forest, looking out into the clearing. Time does not work here as it does in the mortal world: they are always here, and always guiding the recently deceased in their journey through the forest - regardless of how long the journey might take. A small innocent child's journey might be a mere skip through the woods on a summer's day; an old man, burdened by guilt and regrets might have a trek through a near endless night, hounded every step of the way by fearsome beasts and spectres as he is forced to confront his wrongdoing.

There is always enough time. They have guided every soul that has appeared in the clearing, just as they always will. Every journey is different but they follow similar patterns, none is particularly unique - not even this one.

The God and the Goddess stand at the edge of the forest, looking out into the clearing. They are imbued with a certain amount of omniscience, not that it is usually necessary - they journey usually explains itself and much of the life that went before - but today the Goddess feels the new arrival's rare experience, she will need this insight to begin this particular journey.

This clearing, if you will forgive the pun, is not the physical plane. But a disembodied spirit is a distressing state find yourself in. So here, in the first steps away from 'life' the spirit manifests a form. The form is usually as the spirit was in life only whole and healed from any sickness or infirmities; the aged find themselves in the prime of life, the lame can walk, the blind can see, the mentally impaired are freed of those constraints. This is often a joyful moment but for those who have never experienced things such as independent movement or sight or clear thought it can be confusing, even frightening.

In the clearing stands a girl young girl, not a small child but not yet approaching the cusp of womanhood either. The girl exudes fear and the Goddess intuitively understands why - the girl's earthly existence was an especially difficult one. For all the girl's appearance is of having had several years on the mortal plane she had been born with a disorder which rendered her life experience more of a protracted infancy; everything is new and frightening to her, for all this place is designed to comfort all as the arrive. The girl has the air of a newborn fawn - struggling to stand on spindly legs that have never been used for such a purpose before; the wide eyed fear of a deer caught in the headlights only emphasises this impression.

"My dear, all is well," the Goddess speaks in a low tone as one gentling a skittish creature. "You have fallen asleep in one place and awoken in another, that is all."

The girl is just as confused that she understands what the Goddess has said as she is by being here.

"Your mother, your father, your brother, all your family... they will follow in their time. When you reach the other side of this wood they will be right behind you."

The girl's expression is astonished by the reference to her family, but not nearly so much as in a moment's time. The Goddess asks the girl's name and, having 'heard' the echo of the girl's mother's voice cooing her name from within the girl's memory, the goddess speaks the name aloud.

"I- I- I don't understand," the girl stutters, she has never spoken before. Her voice, barely used in life is suddenly formed into words and it startles her just as everything else has. Language is new to her but somehow it it there, in her newly able mind.

"All is well, child," the Goddess repeats soothingly. "You have fallen asleep in one body and awoken in another, that is all."

"I am... standing? Speaking?"

"Yes, child," replies the Goddess who has moved forward a little - the girl did not see her move but she is clearly now closer, the God is further behind. "When we travel through this place what was before is no more. It is no bad thing - what was broken is mended, what you could not do before you can now."

"Why could I not... before?"

"Every body is different - boys or girls or in-between, tall or short or in-between, fat or thin or in-between - and where some bodies work well, some don't. Some bodies start out okay and develop problems, some are born with problems."

"And I was born with problems?" The girl's face moved into an awkward facsimile of a frown, having never formed the expression before.

"Yes, child," the Goddess knew to leave it there whilst the girl used her new-found faculties to process the information.

"And the problems are gone now because that's... better? Better to not have problems?"

The Goddess can feel the bubbling resentment in the girl. Why should she have had to endure so much in her short life? The Goddess could see in her memories lying immobile while others moved around her, moved her inert body - sometimes, but never meaning to, causing her pain in the process. She hadn't resented it in life for she didn't understand it - now she was starting to. The God could see and feel all this too, and for the first time the God spoke, his voice rumbling deep like distant thunder:

"The differences we have in life are only for a time - when you move past time we move past differences too. Some people have an easy time, some people have it harder but by the time you get to your journey's end all is equal."

It was too advanced a concept for the girl who was still struggling to accept she was standing for the first time, barefoot on soft damp grass; speaking for the first time, to two strange beings she didn't recognise.

"Don't worry, child," murmurs the Goddess. "What was is done, and is no more. Now you can walk and talk and run and play and always hereafter - that is all that matters."

"What... what happens now?" The girl asks eventually. "What am I to do, now that I can?"

"Come with us, child," says the God.

"Come with us, child," says the Goddess.

"Where?"

"Into the woods, to the other side," says the God.

"You lived among trees before, didn't you?" The Goddess asks and the girl nods. "Now walk among them, run your hands across the rough bark, feel the leaves crunching underfoot."

"And my family will follow?"

"For you it will be only a moment, for them it will be many years," says the God.

"They will see you again and be overcome with joy," says the Goddess. Time does not work here as it does in the mortal world: the Goddess has seen the reunion happen already and knows her words to be the absolute truth.

The girl is still unsure but as she is unsure of everything going into the woods with the two strangers before her makes as much sense as anything. She feels wobbly on her feet, the pressure on her soles is strange, but as unfamiliar as the motion feels she takes her first steps and is graceful. The girl moves toward the God and the Goddess and enters the forest with them.

There is always enough time. The God and the Goddess encourage the girl to look and absorb every colour and texture and experience the wood gives her - they stop to smell the wild roses and the movement of a caterpillar, they stand in the stillness and listen to the birdsong. And yet the girl's journey is done in a heartbeat for there are no chasms to cross, no darkness to endure, no ferocious animals to outrun; the girl's sufferings are over.

They emerge from the forest into an open meadow. Wildflowers bob in a gentle breeze, stands of trees offer welcome shade, willows trail in a shallow stream that ripples over polished stones.

"What now?" asks the girl. As she turns the God and Goddess are leading her mother and father and brother out of the forest. Her mother and father are much as she remembers them, but her brother who was just a little boy a moment ago is an older man - for he grew up, got married, had children and saw them grow to adulthood long ago.

Despite them all seemingly arriving together they greet each other with such joy it is as if they have not seen each other in years. The girl stands in confusion and watches the outpouring of love between them. Then, finally, her mother sees her - her smile is brilliant sunshine, her tears of joy are soft summer rain.

"My baby! My baby!" she cries, raining kisses on the girl she has not seen in decades. The mother is overwhelmed at the strength in the arms that were never able to return her hugs before.

"Mummy!" cries the girl in return, so far as any of them are concerned this was her first word, for the God and the Goddess are forgotten about and the family is whole again.

Time does not work here as it does in the mortal world; the family meet and greet those who died long before and those who had yet to be born. The girl's fragile, limited mortal existence fades from her mind like a dream upon waking - she runs in the grass and picks handfuls of colourful flowers which instantly reappear on the broken stems; she paddles in the chill water of the stream. Her family too forget the sufferings they saw her endure and watch the child she has been reborn as with joy. Eternity is a family picnic on an idyllic late-summer afternoon. There is no hunger, nor thirst; no pain, no regret; no need to sleep, no need of any kind at all. They are complete.

The God and the Goddess return through the forest to the arrivals clearing in the mere blink of an eye, ready to guide and reunite more souls crossing from life into the hereafter.

So Slow

Not to blow my own trumpet but I have a few smarts. My IQ has been certified at a respectable 137 and I'm a graduate. But I'll be the first to admit I've never been quick on the uptake.

Tonight my mum was watching 'The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb' on TV. I own it on DVD and heaven knows how many times I've seen it since it was made back in 1993...but it was only last year that I finally got what Hastings was on about when he was telling Poirot about Miss Lemon's late cat "the one she called Catherine-the-great because it liked to sleep in the fireplace". Yes, I am very ashamed of myself and embarrassed to admit it. In my defence I'm not exactly super familiar with fireplace grates.

Anyway, this blog is another thing that happened tonight.

I'd gone out for a bit of air, walking down to the closest Pokestop and Pokegym and I was listening to Ashestoangels (hereafter A2A) on my phone.

My cousin Allister died of Primary Brain Lymphoma in April 2016 and there are THREE A2A songs that get me in the feels about that - Ugly Club which made me do the ugly cry at a gig just days after I heard the diagnosis, then two tracks that I got stuck in a loop of playing in the week or so before he died: Bound And Broken, and Ghost In The Machine.

So Ghost In The Machine comes on which particularly makes me think of Allister's partner Michaela. I had huge empathy for her anyway but after the funeral I was lurking to offer the usual stock phrases of sympathy as is only right and proper when my daughter and I overheard her tell another mourner that her father had died of the exact same thing at just one year difference in age.

This reminded me that earlier today I saw Michaela post on Facebook - November 7th was Allister's birthday (at the time of typing it's past midnight).

I also get to thinking about how my mum phoned me to tell me the news.

When I first moved to Taunton in 1997 I got my first ever phone. I started at the neon UFO shaped thing plugged into the wall and realised that some day soon I would take the first of some damn difficult phone calls. As it happened the first was in October 2000, in a different house on a different number and on a different handset. That was when my grandad died. I didn't get a call about my grandma because I had phoned home at an inopportune moment. There must've been calls about more distant relatives, my auntie Kitty for whom my youngest is named, but they were older and expected. it makes a bit of a difference.

The first really difficult phone call wasn't until Oct 2014. My mum didn't sound herself on the phone, I barely recognised her voice. I was just thinking "this reminds me of when my grandad died" when she started crying and I realised...
Me: "OMG, who?"
Mum: "It's Sean"
Me: *LITERALLY DUMBFOUNDED*
Mum: "Your cousin?"
Yeah mum, I know who you meant but...he was 49. He died doing what he loved which was riding his motorbike. My only memory of his wedding back in 1987 was him and his bride sitting on his bike for photos outside the church.

In comparison we knew Allister was going, it was just a matter of waiting for the news. Around the beginning of April we (meaning my mum, my dad and I) stopped phoning each other. We didn't discuss it. We just didn't. Incidentally I tweeted a prediction on April 1st of the 21st. I've blogged about this before and I know it's super vague - the follow on about the odds changing re: the 25th is A2A related - being my next date to see them live. April 21st 2015 was when I saw A2A right after hearing Allister's diagnosis; April 25th 2016 was my next gig date to see them.

As the 21st got closer I started checking Facebook obsessively for any hint from Michaela. By the 21st I was an absolute wreck. At around 7pm I'd been sitting at my PC and had just got up to go to the loo. The phone rang, I misstepped, trod on a plastic tray and broke it. I swore comprehensively at the phone. I was fighting back tears when I picked up the receiver.

So tonight I was thinking about taking that call, the call about Sean, Kitty, my grandad...and I realised that not only am I never getting another call from my mum (as she is a stroke survivor living with me) but that I am now pretty the adult for my branch of the family who other people will call with the bad news (my dad doesn't have a whole lot of family and it's not exactly clear if anyone'd bother contacting him anyways).

For some reason this hit me pretty hard.

Worse still was the realisation that THIS SITUATION HAS ALREADY HAPPENED.

My mother's brother in law, my Uncle Dave, died on October 11th following a long illness from myelodysplastic syndrome (a rare blood cancer). Although, as it's now 2019 I actually received the message via Facebook rather than an actual call. I had to tell my mum, rather than the other way about.

Unusually for me I just went through it without clocking the reversal in roles. 

Tonight it hit me. Not only that it is me that is moving up the pecking-order of adulting around here but the shock that I'd just dealt with it when it came up without really clocking it. 

When Sean and Allister died I wanted death to hit my parents' generation next as might be considered the natural order of things. I'm the youngest of my generation but it's too close for comfort. Dave, on the other hand, was 80. And now we're in that phase, of losing that generation, I feel old. 

I am perfectly aware of my age, my 'kids' are in their 20s so I probably have a better awareness of where I stand than a lot of people in my age bracket. Indeed, another cousin has a kid who is just 5.5 years younger than me...and her kids are a preschooler and a newborn! By the time I'm a grandma, or certainly by the time my future grandkids are old enough to remember, it's unlikely there'll be any of the old-guard left standing. Time marches on and all that but it's the realisation that goes with it.

I didn't have any greatgrandparents alive when I was a kid - I doubt anyone of their generation was still around. My mum's parents had her late, she had me fairly late...I guess somewhere along the line I just assumed that by being a teen mum it'd go some way to redressing the balance. Tonight it struck me that it's really unlikely. My kids probably won't have kids for another decade...and in all honesty I think my generation, already depleted, will be the oldest by then.

Deaths of 2019

Gwendoline J, nee Beckett (94/95)

Last surviving aunt of my father - no biographical details.

Left the UK decades ago.

Serena Cheong (34)

Missed by her parents Solomon & Cecelia, sister Sharon, brother Michael, sister in law Kelly

and the Blockhead Sisterhood worldwide.

Michael Barter (82/83)*

No close kin.

* not only do I not know his date of birth but no one knows when he died. Whatever's on his certificate is a guestimate.

Dave Rowlands (80)

Missed by his widow Margaret; daughters Terrie, Dawn Paula and Shirley;

grandchildren David, Hannah. Luke, Matthew, Geraldine, Sabrina,

Hopey, Isaac, Jacob, Shirley, Elijah;

great-grandchildren Evelyn, Henry, Rafe, Max, Lazarus, Ezra, Delilah and Selena

Bring My Bones Back Home, I Don't Need Them Any More

And bury me all alone, keep my memory.

The title, and that line, are from an Ashestoangels' song "Bones Part 1" from A Trauma Shared. This is a very important song to me as it is one of three tracks I tend to play on loop from that album. The others are 'One Last Glance' and 'Endlessly'. They've been on loop for me 7 months tomorrow...since my mum's stroke. And that is why those words seemed so apt for this blog post.

This link should take you to a BBC video 'Where's the right place to bury your parents? - Deciding where to bury your parents if they were not born in the UK'

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/stories-46212155/deciding-where-to-bury-your-parents-if-they-were-not-born-in-the-uk

Case studies: Tosin lost her parents in quick succession, both aged 52. Her Nigerian born dad was buried with his dad and brother in London - they did not know his wishes; her mother was cremated and scattered in 'her father's land' - also Nigeria - according to her wishes. Ndu had to call elders in Nigeria to approve burying his father in London.

"I just did the best that I thought I could" - Tosin

This is a hugely important point. If your loved one did not leave specific instructions for the disposal of their mortal remains it is okay to do what is right for YOU. Do not assume that their not giving those instructions was because they left it too late to have that conversation; if it was that important to them they would have said or left a document with their directions. Tosin's decision for her dad is also based on decisions within his family - if the UK was a good enough final resting place for his close kin there's no great reason to suspect it wasn't good enough for him. Additionally, despite her dad dying first Tosin's mum was clear she wanted her ashes to go home to Nigeria. Do not feel bad about splitting up a couple who have died. If they wanted to be buried together fair enough but if the last surviving wants to be elsewhere then that is right too...

...which is not to say there are right and wrong answers here. Honouring someone's express wishes are, I suppose paramount, but where those wishes are absent, unclear, or unable to be fulfilled an executive decision must be made. And while you can take your lead from family precedent you can also do what is right for you.

Tosin also speaks of the fact she has a place to visit for her dad and Ndu agrees that this was an aspect of his decision for his father. Some funerary rites are for the deceased - such as ancient Egyptian mummification or the Catholic last rites - but most are for the living, a chance to say goodbye, to mourn, to let go - these include most funeral and memorial services, wakes and tombs. This is why, in my humble opinion, it has to be about what the immediate family want: it's THEIR goodbye more than it is the deceased's last hurrah. 

I have never yet had to make these decisions, and my parents are UK born and bred, but here's my take:

My parents went on holidays for a while after I'd grown up and left home and I was given instructions on what to do if they died out there - I was to have them cremated. Repatriating remains was a ridiculous waste of money and I was absolutely NOT to do that. My parents' have a VERY practical take on this.
I can understand the need to repatriate remains when someone has died outside their native land whether on work, holiday or, historically, via the slave trade. However, if someone took the decision to live their life in another country...well, maybe it depends WHY you decided that. If it was for work or a partner maybe you always wanted to go home. Or maybe you migrated as a child and the choice to not return 'home' wasn't really viable.
My parents have lived most of their lives within a radius of just a few miles - is that because they are deeply connected to the place or is that just happenstance? Happenstance seems most likely.

My maternal grandparents died close together in 2000. My mum fell apart and I was told to stay away, which I respected. However, both my grandparents were cremated and scattered so there is no goodbye, no paying my respects.

My paternal grandparents are a different story. My grandfather died long before I was born and was buried. I only plucked up the courage to ask to visit his grave after my other grandparents died as it suddenly felt like a terrible omission. A few years after that my nan also died. Despite 38 years of widowhood she was buried with him. Again I wasn't welcome for the funeral but I have visited since and seen the new combined headstone.

Meanwhile I have been to two funerals ever. The first was my cousin Allister in 2016; his was a church service followed by cremation. His ashes were scattered at a favourite spot. I remember thinking, somewhat inappropriately, that my kids had better not try this kind of a send off for me as it would be pitiful in comparison. Allister's was standing room only - he had lots of family and friends, colleagues and running mates - my turnout would be about 5 people. Maybe. The second was my great aunt Ben (Rosalind Brenda by birth). Hers was a simple crematorium service with maybe a dozen or so attendees.

My parents have always talked about death but neither has made much in the way of specific plans. Not from an unwillingness to talk but from an "I don't care, I'll be dead" mindset; but both decidedly prefer cremation. My mum has a prepaid funeral plan and as she has more family she'll need some form of service. I'd prefer church although I know that's not her...so most likely it'll be a crematorium. My dad isn't close to his surviving family and he's a no frills kind of guy so direct cremation seems likely. If at all possible I'd like to keep a funeral home out of the proceedings - I'd like to shroud them and so forth myself.

But then there's what to do with their ashes...

Once upon a gazillion years ago, when my parents were still together, my dad expressed the desire that I should chuck a handful of my mum under a passing bus...I find myself wondering how many handfuls there'll be...*mutters darkly* I certainly wouldn't mind chucking some of him under a bus.

I'd like to bury at least part of their ashes somewhere - not because I want to keep them when they're gone cos that's kinda weird and it's not like we're a close family anyway - I just don't like the idea of being completely gone. I'd like there to be an inscribed stone where I can lay flowers and tell my grandkids what annoying gits they could be. That's the sort of thing I would want for myself...a stone that could be visited intermittently and ultimately forgotten and when the weather has removed the inscription it'll be done.

Although, for my dad, he's been talking a lot about a place where he spent summers as a kid. I kept trying to talk him into going back for a visit but I doubt he ever will. I offered to go with him / drag him kicking and screaming ...but now I'm caring for my mum I can't. I think I'd like to take his ashes there.

I know I'll have to make these decisions sooner rather than later. Along with stupid, unimportant decisions like readings and music. That said, I'm kind of glad those decisions will be mine. Having specific directions and disliking them or failing to adhere to them would be so unpleasant.

Celebrating

I just caught a YouTube video that reminded me of a story I heard at work - told to me by a co-worker. One of the joys of retail is dealing with customers' strange expectations, this one struck me as strange at first but this video made me realise it's really not and needs to be acknowledged.

A lady came in looking for a very specific card. It was a major wedding anniversary but it was not to give to a couple, parents or a spouse (all available), it was for herself. She wanted to mark her anniversary when no one else would because she had been widowed some time before. Death did not negate her love, her marriage, her wanting to mark the milestone. We didn't have a card for that. 

And she should mark / celebrate the occasion imho. We all should mark / celebrate whatever milestones and anniversaries that are meaningful to us, positive and negative.

I don't think forgetting a wedding anniversary should be a catastrophic thing. Marriages are every day weddings are a one time deal...I know which I think is more important. Honouring your marriage EVERY DAY is more important than an annual thing the way I see it. If you don't want to mark your birthdays that's cool too (I have that line from the Twilight Saga running through my head about Bella, aged all of 18, not wanting to celebrate her ageing...just wait until you're pushing forty grumbles the old lady). It's all about CHOICE. Celebrate / don't celebrate. Mourn / don't mourn. Commemorate / don't commemorate. Choose how to honour your experiences and how to continue your life.

The YouTube video I mentioned was about an approaching first wedding anniversary after the death of a husband but it makes me think of other videos and comments I have seen - like ridiculing loss parents for marking their 'angelversaries' - the anniversary of the loss of their child. Excuse you, internet trolls, what is it to you if or how people mark that day? Do you honestly think anniversaries like that can or should be ignored or forgotten?! For me it has been 23 years but I still think of Jake every 27th July; which is not to say I don't think of him at other times. Nor do I make an EFFORT to remember, it just happens. If should an anniversary pass and I forget that's okay too but you can't force it. Time doesn't heal exactly, but it does change things.

On a different note: when I was dieting I marked EVERY milestone I could think of. Every half stone, every 5lb increment every 5% off my start weight. Multiplying the milestones makes the goal seem more attainable. Same, I think, with addicts taking it one day at a time. Each day is its own achievement. And my god, it you WANT to buy a 'Well Done' card or a helium balloon or a bunch of flowers to celebrate then just DO IT!!! For your parent, child, sibling, partner...or yourself.

I don't think we celebrate OURSELVES as much as we should. It's seen as prideful or selfish but you know what? A lot of us have low self esteem. A lot of us don't have families who celebrate us or our achievements. So yeah, celebrate yourself, love yourself.

ADVANCE DIRECTIVE

I have been thinking a lot about death lately. Not for any particular reason, just came across the user Caitlin Doughty (Ask A Mortician) coupled with an impending need to write a new will has resulted into me thinking a fair bit about a new Advance Directive.
But there is so much to think of...so here's a prelimanary music for the permanent record:

Pre Death

DO NOT lie to me. Death is inevitable. Yes, it is scary, upsetting and I don't wanna...but it is real, it is happening and there may be stuff I need to say or do or put in order.

NO palliative anti-psychotics. The LAST thing I want is to be more conscious of my suffering. I am cool with anything to reduce my suffering even / especially if it actually shortens my life. NO treatment to extend life. No resuscitation unless truly exceptional (e.g. that TV movie - A Place For Annie - where they brought the mom back from her AIDS related death cos her baby had just been found to be clear of the virus...to be told your kid won't die because of you is possibly the only valid reason here) I really don't wasn't to be put on a ventilator or have any life-support type care (other than potentially in a short-term crisis scenario); literally nothing that is futile, only treatments that are really likely to not only work but improve the quality of my life. QUALITY OVER QUANTITY in every scenario.

DO NOT think you have to sit there and watch me die. I may appreciate the support or I may not...but you definitely don't need the trauma.

ABSOLUTELY UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ANY KIND OF CLONING OR CRYOGENIC BULLSHITTERY. Jesus Christ, once was more than enough.

Post Death

NO embalming

NO having my jaw clamped / mouth sewn shut - a scarf or whatever will do fine

NO butt plug. Corpse diaper instead, danke.

I'm not overly comfortable about organ / skin / bone donation - I would NEVER want to be a recipient - but it seems churlish to refuse my spare parts

Disposal

So long as my remains ARE disposed of (if found) I am cool with it. I do not want to be pickled, preserved, plasticised...

Ideally I would like a natural burial - a cardboard or wicker casket if you can't face a shroud - but kinda the same deal if you go the cremation route. Expensive caskets are STOOOPID. And wasteful.

I would like to be in a specific place, not scattered. The exception would be, if my remains are found after a considerable time, I appreciate that they might require relocation, but if there is a case for leaving me be - or returning me to that spot - please do.

I fully understand if you don't want a hands-on funeral / disposal. This is all up to you. Do what is right for you.

Mourning

I do not relish the idea of divvying up my ashes or making mourning jewellery with them (hair is different) but meh, this is about you.

I DO want a headstone...which does not have to be in the vicinity of my physical remans. I just like the idea of a permanent memorial that could potentially last hundreds of years before being reclaimed by the elements and my memory, my entire existence, pass finally and quietly into dust.

Things That Make You Go RRRRARRRRGGGH!!!!

Everyone has things that drive them nuts.  But I do think that TV advertisements have to be one of the most irritating things in the known universe.  Think about it - when was the last time you saw an ad that told you just what you needed to know about the product / service?  When have you actually gone out deliberately to buy something because you saw it on telly?  And yet, in comparison, how many ads have you seen THIS WEEK?

My grandfather was a proof reader with a printing company and raised my mother to be pernickety exacting about spelling, punctuation, grammar etc.  Not a week passed that she won't text or email the latest offence to the English language she's spotted...nine times out of ten it's an advertisement.  Half the time I still don't get it even when it's pointed out to me.

But the one that just got right up my nose today was a Save The Children campaign ad.  "No child born to die"...um, do I need to explain the concept of mortality here?  Everyone is born to die, everyone will die.  Sad but an essential fact of life.  "22,000 children die every day"...again, sad.  But that's all.  Accompanied by images of children living and dying in appalling conditions (apparently in Africa) I have several thoughts on this one...

1) What would happen if they DIDN'T???  Did anyone see Torchwood: Miracle Day?  Sci-fi series exploring the not-so-great concept of immortality.  22,000 children NOT dying each day for one year alone is over 8 million extra people to sustain.  If these dying children's countries / communities cannot sustain them today, how will they sustain them tomorrow, or in a year, or in another decade?

2) Why are they dying?  We're not talking about a famine as such or a natural disaster.  We're talking about an ongoing situation partly due to poverty but partly due to a massive over population of a region that is not overly hospitable to start with.

3) Why is the place so massively over populated if 22,000 children are dying daily?  The birth rate has got to be phenomenal!  Get the birth rate down and what would happen?  The land could sustain the population far better, the water supply would be less stretched and they'd probably be able to afford the basics of health care too!  So is this what Save The Children are trying to do - to educate people, provide birth control, help them to form a sustainable population?  No, of course not.  It's all "let's throw money at the situation cos money fixes everything" - hence the RRRRARRRRGGGH!!!!

Fix the cause, not the symptom.