My father died on the 25th of October and his funeral was Friday just gone. My first real experience of grief and loss since my TBI.
Dad was there following my accident and acted as chief taxi driver throughout the ordeal of hundreds of various hospital visits in the early days of my recovery. He'd been battling cancer for over a year but it finally overtook his weak body. He was 83, he'd had a great life, but still...
My mother, my brother and myself were there at the very end and it was an awful day. But as the cancer overwhelmed him, he managed to let us know he loved us all. I'm welling up now as I type this just thinking back to that day.
And now the mundane chores of every day life return. We move house next week, it's all very full on and I'm knackered. But, life goes on and I'll raise a glass to my old man this (very sad) Christmas