Righty ho, I said I would
blog so here I am blogging. Trouble is I am limited for time today
as I have a fair few jobs to get done this morning as I want to go to
the big city this afternoon for some shopping. I need to buy a
present for my little Grandson's birthday.
I have to use public
transport to go anywhere as we only have the one car and Simon uses
that for work. The buses from my village go once an hour and it
takes around an hour to get to the city. I have to change buses in
the nearby town of Bourne and then I can get a bus to Peterborough
which is the nearest big place with decent shops. It is a bit of a
trek so I don’t do it very often! However going today I can come
back with Simon in the car so that makes it better.
Anyway, where was I? See
I am already waffling on. I can't just write a blog without some
waffle. Yesterday I mentioned that despite recent sadness we are
also very blessed. So I think I will restart my blogging habit by
talking about some of my blessings.
I am going to start with
my Dad. He was the most wonderful man and one year on I still miss
him terribly. I think of him every single day and talk to him too.
He was born in the East
End of London on the 13th of December 1926. The 2nd
child and 2nd son of Harry and Edith Sansum. He eventually
had 4 more siblings, another brother and 3 sisters. They were a
typical East End family of that time. They were very poor and eked
out an existence. His Dad liked the drink a bit too much so although
he worked, the family didn’t see too much of his earnings. His
Mum was a very strong, sensible lady with good morals and I think it
was her influence that made my Dad the man he was.
1951. Great Yarmouth
He was kind, patient,
honest, hard working, and devoted to my Mum. Many of you will know
how hard it was for our family once the Alzheimers took over my Mum.
Dad never faltered in his love and care for her right until the end.
Once Mum had gone we thought he wouldn't be long after her but in
fact he enjoyed 2 more years.
They were good years. He
once again became fully engaged with all of the family. He adored
his great grandchildren and we had many family occasions where he had
the best time. He also started to visit us every school holiday. He
had never done that while Mum was still alive because he would never
leave her. He really looked forward to coming to stay and in fact he
always knew when the next holiday was due.
This was taken on his 87th birthday and is the last photo of him with his Great Grandchildren.
So we were both eagerly
looking forward to the February half term break last year. I had
various plans of things we were going to do together. Little did
either of us know that it wasn't to be.
Dad suffered a stroke at
the end of January. In the first few hours the news coming from my
sister was that it might not be too bad. After all he had been out
doing his shopping and had walked to his doctor himself because he
didn't feel so good. However over the next few days we realised that
actually it was the very worst kind of stroke. It had occurred at
the back, right in the centre so had effected not just his ability to
walk but also things such as his swallowing reflex.
He was in the Lister
hospital in Stevenage and over the following weeks they tried hard to
do some physiotherapy with him but he was very down. He also had an
operation to insert a permanent feeding port as it seemed that he
would never regain his swallow. After around a month they moved
him to a rehabilitation unit in Old Welwyn. They seemed positive
that they would get him back on his feet. To be honest, I always had
doubts, I just couldn’t ever see him making it home. I did try to
have hope though.
Sadly from the very first
day there things went wrong. He contracted some kind of infection
and was in a lot of pain and discomfort. They could not begin his
rehabilitation as he couldn’t move from the bed. This went on for
several weeks during which time they had him in isolation as they
were not sure what the infection was. It was a miserable existence
for him and he told me on several occasions that he didn’t want to
be here, he wanted to be with Mum. That is very hard to hear but I
did understand.
Finally after several
weeks he got pneumonia and they decided that he needed to be
transferred back to the hospital at Stevenage. They moved him on he
Monday night. I went up to see him on the Tuesday. I was shocked.
I knew then he was never going home. He had on an oxygen mask but he
kept fighting to take it off. It was hard to hear and understand
what he was saying with it on. He did remove it briefly to say he
loved me. I will always remember that.
I had a long journey home
and didn't get in until around 8.30pm. I rang my children to let
them know that he really was very poorly. I knew it wasn’t going
to be long. I didn’t however expect it to be a matter of hours. I
got a phone call around half an hour after I got home from my sister
to say that the hospital had phoned for them to go in as he was
asking for them. At around midnight she phoned to say I should
return.
Simon and I were straight
in the car. Once we were there the doctor came and spoke to us. Dad
had made up his own mind that it was time. He refused all further
treatment and the doctor told him that without it he would die that
day. She asked if that was what he wanted and he told her yes. She
asked my sister and I if we agreed. We had to say yes. It wasn’t
what I wanted at all. I wanted my Dad back. I didn’t want to lose
him. However I did understand that he wasn’t going to get better
and that he had simply had enough. It was time to go and be with
Mum.
They switched of all the
machines and removed everything from him. We were moved into a
private room as by this time most of the family were there. He died
about 20 minutes later. It was very peaceful and he knew we were all
there. He even had his youngest great-grandson Jackson, sitting on
the bed holding his hand. Jackson was just 1 year old. We asked Dad
if he knew Jackson was holding his hand and he nodded yes! A few
minutes later the light went out on my world.
I found it incredibly
hard. I was inconsolable. Even now I cannot write this without the
tears streaming down my face.
And now a whole year has
passed without him. The last one of the “first anniversaries” has
passed. It isn’t any easier. So many times there is stuff that I
want to tell him. On several occasions I have actually picked up the
phone and dialled the number before my brain has reminded me that he
won't be answering.
I wonder what he would
make of it all? I know what he would tell me. “Life goes on and
you must pick yourself up and get on with it”. He once told me
that my sister Julie had described me as pragmatic. He said “I
don’t know what that actually means but I know you will be OK
because you are e a coper. You deal with things”. He is right.
I am dealing with it. One of my ways of doing that is to try and
live by the mantra of always remember the good times and also to
always count my blessing every single day.
My Dad was one of the
biggest blessings of my life. I was so blessed to have such a
wonderful man as my father. A man who showed me how to be the best
that I can. A man who taught me that no matter what, family are the
most important thing. He will always be a blessing.
I love you Dad.
PS. I hope I haven’t
made anyone feel down with this blog. As I wrote it, I got quite
upset. It's OK to be upset. You know, my sister is right, I am
pragmatic. I am a coper. As far as I can see there is no other
choice. Whatever life throws at us, all we can do is carry on. I
have my tears and my sad times, but then in the words of my grandson
Evan, I “give myself a talking to” and then I follow my road.
My friend Deb will
understand the reference to following the road.
Count your blessings every
single day and whatever happens follow your road.
Jilly