Daz’s dad died this week. He didn’t pass away or pass on or go to a better place. He just died. And I think he probably died a very lonely death.
It’s a story that goes back over forty years and I don’t know all the facts because I wasn’t there so I don’t judge anyone and I don’t assume to know anything about it.
All I can say is that Daz’s mum and dad split up when he was very young. He had twin sisters who were just babies and another sister not much younger than himself. It wasn’t an amicable split and over the years nothing ever changed. And I know it was a confusing time for Daz so I can only guess that it was for the girls as well. They all came out of it with different opinions of their Dad and the whole situation. And he became like many other divorced Dads. I don’t know if it just becomes too hard or too painful or too much, but he just sort of stopped seeing the kids. And he wasn’t a bad man, just a person like we all are. He made some bad choices, made some wrong decisions and I guess it all leads you to where you end up. It’s easy now of course to look back and say – he should have done this, she should have done this, we should have done that. But in the end everyone did what they did and thats that.
Over the years he had more contact with the girls than he did with Daz. Two of them managed to build some kind of relationship with him. I think because Daz was older at the time he had more bad memories of it all and he avoided contact with his father for a long time. Over the twenty five years that Daz and I have been together I’ve probably only met up with his Dad ten times.
But about two years ago he was diagnosed with cancer. And he really made an effort to reach out, to tell his side of the story, because he’d never really done that before. But it was just too late. I remember having conversations with Daz saying – you should meet up with him, when he dies you might be sorry that you didn’t tell him how you feel. So they did spend some time together and they had words but it was always just a bit awkward.
So last night Daz’s sister had a call from the hospital saying that their Dad had missed his chemotherapy appointment. So when she couldn’t contact him she went around to his place and ended up calling the police. They ended up breaking down the door and found him dead inside. They think he probably died Monday night, three nights ago.
Three nights ago. It just seems such a sad and lonely way to die. They are saying that he came out of the shower and had a heart attack. So I guess that’s a good thing because he was really fed up with the cancer.
But it makes you think. About how easy it is to end up somewhere that is about a million miles away from where you thought you would be. Whats that saying? There but for the grace of God, go I. Well I don’t know if God has anything to do with it, but just one decision, one act, one choice made in anger or, oh I don’t know just nothing that you even thought would matter at the time, it can take you from one place where you thought you’d be happy forever to another place where you probably never thought you’d ever end up and must wonder at the ery end how the hell you did end up there.
I hope he didn’t feel alone at the end. At the moment I’m seriously doubting that he had the chance. Our next door neighbour Shirley also died this week. She was an extremely obese woman in her seventies. She had a massive opinion about everything and she wasn’t afraid to share it with anyone. She had a wicked sense of humour and a great booming laugh and even if you lived five doors away you could still hear her talking about her latest medical drama with the woman who lived across the road.
So today Daz was at his Dads house doing some sorting and was saying how he thought his father would be freaking out about someone touching his stuff and I said, he wouldn’t have the chance, Shirley would be there telling him not be such a bloody idiot and to hurry up and come up to where the fun was.