My last hour with my dying father

Last days with my terminally ill father (from the book Given Time to Say Goodbye)

November 13 - Prescious moments

It was my last full day in Holland before I had to leave for England again. Cooking a breakfast for my dad and myself of toast and a boiled egg, the one meal he still got a little enjoyment from, was so easy in comparison to the previous night that I had spent sleeping in the same bedroom than him.

I remember that morning well. He had no pain. Our favourite piece of music, the Stabat Mater by Pergolesi, was playing while we sat on the sofa together, both eating our egg and toast. Nothing was said; we just felt intense love for each other. We were both aware that these were some of our last precious moments together, and being there with him on that very day was intense and special. I felt closer to him than ever and knew that our time together was coming to an end. These were some of our last glances at each other. Soon these warm hands I was holding would be cold, and my father’s body would be an empty shell.

November 14

Our last hour together

My very dear friend was to pick me up at 10:45 a.m. and take me to the train that would take me back to Brussels and then on to England. After the nurse washed and dressed my father that morning, we wrapped him up warmly and sat him in the wheelchair. We placed it next to an empty chair for me to sit in, in a warm and sunny spot in the garden. It was ten o’clock, which meant I had only forty-five minutes left to spend with my father before my departure. I asked my mother if she would mind going for a walk so I could have some time alone with him which she willingly did. I said goodbye to her and sat in the empty chair next to my father. I took my father’s hand in my hand. We quietly sat and enjoyed the beautiful garden that he had nurtured and loved for so many years. There was the warm and familiar smell of autumn leaves that made a blanket around us on the ground. The birds appeared to be singing exclusively for us, and it was peaceful to sit there while holding his warm familiar hand. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I felt overcome by love while being there with him on that beautiful crisp autumn morning.

I said, “Dad, is there anything that still needs to be said?”

He answered, “No, my darling, I have always loved you so much. There’s nothing more to be said.”

I’m certain that we both knew that it was our last time together. I said, “Dad! I can be here in four hours. If anything should happen to you, I can travel fast if I need to.”

He replied, “No, you belong with your children in England. If anything happens, you don’t need to be here.”

His saying that brought me such relief. I was so grateful to him for not putting any pressure on me. We sat there in silence for a bit longer, and it felt like time was standing still. We were both so grateful for each other’s company, and all was well.

My mother returned from her walk far too soon and told us it was almost time to go. My friend, Ria, arrived, and suddenly I needed to think about getting my things together. I suddenly got ripped out of a beautiful state of being with my father, and so was he. My father, with his sharp mind still intact, was explaining to my friend how to get to the train station more quickly. Amazing, in the course of just a few minutes the whole atmosphere changed.

A few minutes later, it was time to say goodbye. I needed to be strong for my father, and I knew that he was going to be strong for me. I gave him a long and big tight hug. The warmth of his body transmitted love and sadness at the same time. Although we didn’t mention it, we both knew it would be our very last embrace. Nobody knows what’s waiting around the corner in life, but on that day, we knew. It made our goodbye extraordinary because it felt like we were consciously opening the doors to our inner souls. I realised before his passing how very dear and loved he was, and experiencing that so intensely with him was extremely precious. After our embrace, I walked away from him. I wanted to have one last look at him. I stopped and turned around. He blew me a kiss. I blew him one back.

As soon as I got in the car on my way to the station, I burst out crying. I was glad Ria drove me to the station so I could share my feelings with her. She is my oldest and one of my very dearest friends. Having her there made the transition between saying goodbye to my father and travelling back to England on my own easier. I told Ria that the goodbye to my father felt like the last one ever.

Before I boarded the train, Ria gave me a special bag filled with goodies for the journey. She told me not to open it until the train had left. Having caring friends like her really helped me on this journey of letting go of my father. I kissed her goodbye and boarded the train.

When the train pulled away, I looked in the bag and found a massive bag of heart-shaped sweets with a loving note from my special friend. Her caring gift put a smile on my face.

Extract from Given Time to Say Goodbye, book by Dianne Leutner Available on Amazon worldwide and ebook.

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About the Author
Dianne Leutner, a Dutch national who now lives in England, knows the depths of grief firsthand after losing both her parents to terminal cancer and two sisters-in-law to sudden death within just a few years. It’s no surprise, then, that her first two books focus on the topic of loss. Her debut book, Remembering, is a children’s bereavement book that was nominated at the BMA 2010 Book Awards, remains one of Child Bereavement UK’s best-selling books, and is heralded by the British Medical Association. Her second book Given Time to Say Goodbye, a raw, heartfelt memoir of a cancer caregiver acknowledges the darkness of loss—revealing the surprising healing properties of honest grieving was launched in October 2015. For fifteen years, Leutner worked in TV and radio production as a script supervisor, director, and producer. The author is passionate about helping others learn how to grieve well so they, too, can fully embrace life.
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