The End of the Journey
It is with a heavy heart, and a complete sense of disbelief, that I write to tell you that my beloved Dad passed away on Thursday 7th of September.
My sisters and I sat by his bedside for the last 3 weeks of his life, after we were told that the cancer had spread to his brain and there was no more that could be done for him.
One week he was propped up in his hospital bed reading the Guardian and The Economist, the following week he was unable to drink a cup of tea unaided.
I can’t fully describe to you how broken hearted I feel to have lost him. And to see such a proud and clever man completely wasted by the evil disease that invaded almost every part of his being.
He was so utterly brave, and he fought tooth and nail against the inevitable. Right until the very end. I’m so proud of him.
For years I’ve written about cancer, I’ve marvelled at its cunning, and been amazed by its destructiveness. But I never fully appreciated just how terrible it is to watch someone you love be consumed by it. I’ll never write about cancer in the same way again. I want the anger to return so that I can rage against the unfairness of it all. But for now all I feel is unrelenting sadness, and the desperation to have my father returned to me.
I haven’t done much cooking lately, but I look forward to returning to the kitchen for some food therapy next week.
Thanks for sticking with me
11th September 2017