Wednesday, 17 August 2011

...unexpected grief.

All at once you are looking for your favourite recipe for cream of mushroom soup in a book that you cannot remember not being there and then, suddenly the wave of grief hits. 
This books once belonged to your Dad, it's 80's images conjuring up memories of old houses and innocent days.
My stomach suddenly turned, my eyes suddenly filled and all I wanted was to close the pages and turn off the pain.  Run away and forget.
Grief never fully leaves you.  You smile through your days and suddenly sadness comes and it hurts.
September hurts.
September 18th kills me. 
Fourteen years ago I watched my Dad die of a heart attack.  Literally in front of me, noisy ambulances, defibrillators and speeding hospital beds in the A&E with doctors sitting on my Dad trying to bring his body back to life.  It didn't work.  Being sent to the room I knew was the 'death' room and it was the room where they came and declared the obvious.
I try not to dwell, try not to feel the awful heart wrenching pain of him dying, of never knowing my boys and then in my kitchen it hits me so hard I could fall over and roll into a ball and weep.  Never wanting to feel anything but this pain that brings him back to me.

Life goes on.  You bake bread to go with the soup that made you think of him and try not to think too much.

My Dad...................


  1. You are so right. Grief never goes and creeps up when you least expect it too. I had a similar experience a week or so ago.
    Losing your dad is so very, very hard, but to have witnessed what you did, I just can't imagine how that was.
    Sending you a big hug.
    Lisa x

  2. Twenty, (twenty?? so much time gone so fast) years ago my dad died aged 49, on the platform on the way to work, of a sudden heart thing. A really fit, active, happy man who loved life and had big plans with my mum for the next few years.
    Twenty years but still not a day goes past when I don't think of him and wish he could have seen me married and meet his two grandchildren. August 28th is my 'day'. Thinking of you and the soup. Make some, eat it and enjoy it and think of your pa. Thinking of you babe, Ax

  3. It's hard enough without you having witnessed what you did. Thinking of you thinking of him..........

  4. Oh my dearest Ali, how completely and utterly awful for you.

    My own father has rarely shown me any affection so I don't really know what to say to offer you comfort.

    I'm sure you will never stop aching for your dear Dad but I do hope the trauma surrounding his death fades over time.

    Thinking of you my friend.


  5. What can I say? Words don't seem right.

    Thinking of you. Big hugs x

  6. ...I missed this post and for that I am so sorry x I have no words...just my own ponderings

    and again it is of no real help. Just know people are heart-full for you. And how proud your dad is of you! x

  7. Awwww so sad. Sending hugs your way. x

  8. I'm new to your blog, just wandering through your blog...until I came to this post which brought tears to my eyes. Massive hugs from a stranger in the blog world but one whose life you touched enough to evoke tears and sadness for you with your post. Your dad must have been special indeed and it is heartwarming that you love him so much and haven't let the passing of time lessen that even if it brings pain - as well as smiles - to remember.

  9. Thanks for taking the time to comment; to the new (mrs bok) and the rest of you lovely peeps! xx

  10. Ali - I missed this post, being away. So sad x


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