I wash my hands obsessively after I’ve been helping him, as though afraid that I will be infected by death. Is this why we turn away, why we cannot face the deathly decline, afraid that by mere observation death will seep into our veins? Or is it that our subconscious knows what our conscious mind refuses to admit - that every second brings us inexorably closer to our own death?
Today, not so much a poem as an excerpt from the writings that poured out of me a year ago as I was nursing my father in the final days of his life.
Today is the one year anniversary of his death.
I have yet to share the 15 000 words I wrote about my experience of caring for him at home on my own for 6 days, before holding him through the night as he passed.
The writing was incredibly cathartic, vitally important in my processing and acceptance of his death. But not only that… I also knew that it needed to be shared.
I was so grateful, honoured, to be able to give my father his dying wish:
to die a dignified death, in my peaceful home, cared for by his daughter -
not alone, afraid, poked and prodded by strangers in a hospital.
But, as I went through it I kept thinking about how nobody talks about this.
Nobody talks about not only the emotional rollercoaster which includes both tremendous, boundless love, a capacity you never imagined you possessed,
AND resentment, anger, helplessness,
nor does anyone prepare you for the very practical, physical reality of caring for a dying loved one.
I still can’t decide how I should share this!
Would you like to read more?
Have you experienced loss and grief?
Have you cared for a dying loved one?
Have you witnessed death?
Share your experience with me in the comments, and vote for how you would like to read more, either 1, 2 or 3:
1. As a series of essays on here on Substack, for free and open to anyone to read
2. As a series of essays on Substack, behind a paywall for a minimal fee, simply to protect the sensitive nature of this content from random prying eyes with no true interest in the deep meaning behind it 😆
3. As a book (which would of course take longer to put out)
With love x