Blog: The Final Day

*** Warning: this blog talks openly about death and grief ***

Time heals everything is what they tell you, for me I can tell you that is simply not true. Time changes how grief feels sure, but a change in feeling does not make up for the loss that we feel.

Grief comes in many forms. Sometimes it’s those dates in the calendar and sometimes it’s just for getting that they’re actually gone for a second as you think of something you’re going to ask them, then you’re pulled straight back down to earth when you remember they’ve been gone for four years. So no time doesn’t heal everything, it makes a change but that’s it.

I’ve recently blogged about how the start of January each year is simply about survival for me. Getting through and past the 13th of January is all that really matters at the moment. I talk about the passage of time quite a lot in many different forms when it comes to wellbeing and right now I’m feeling the passage of time again. This Thursday it is four years since my dad passed away. Four years is quite a long time yet I can recall that day vividly like it was a few hours ago.

Grief comes in many forms, and we feel it in different ways. It’s changed in four years. That feeling I had when I first came home from the hospital after that had left us where I was in utter shock yet I couldn’t sit still. I just needed to do something anything so I spent I was at my mums house sorting out access to electronic documentation this is how grief came immediately to me. One of the biggest moments of grief was when I had to nip into the office to get my more formal shoes out of my storage locker that might sound like a bit of a strange one going into the office five days a week was very normal for me back then so this horrible event happening and me having to physically go into the office to do something that would normally be a part of everyday life that really hit me quite hard.

Grief comes in many forms. I’m writing this on Monday evening so last night grief came in the form of insomnia I keep replaying that day in my mind it’s hard and I do try to shut it down. But sometimes you have just got to deal with it. I remember how it felt being on the first day of a holiday receiving the call that my dad had just a few hours left to live and the horrendous rush to get back to Sheffield before it was too late. I remember the torture of the waiting room and how I fell to pieces when I was told there is nothing that can be done. None of this is a blur for me I can remember everything that happened in detail, even though I don’t want to. Even on the day he left us I had no suspicion that this was the last day of his life.

There’s 8760 hours in a year. I want you to think of someone in your life that really matters and their existence is important to you. There might be 8760 I was in a year, but today could be the last time you have with them. Think about those people that matter to you I make sure they know it. I’m really lucky that I was close to my dad, and even though I’ve not seen him that day prior to the hospital we were really close and he knew what I thought of him. For that I am really grateful. There weren’t 8760 hours left for him, but I was grateful for all the time that we had.

People ask me why I do wellbeing work, see all the reasons above. Following this dreadful day I learned so much and I had to survive this. That is why I do this work in honour of my dad.

So if you take one thing away from this, tell the people that matter to you how you feel. Life is short, and you do not know if this is the final hours you’ll have with them. Don’t wait, now is the time.

This is difficult to write and has taken quite a long time to get it down. Grief comes in many forms and at the moment I am feeling it.

I love you dad.

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