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How I lost my Father

We all go through changes in our lives, some more than others. However, little did I know that such changes would cause my childhood to crumble to the ground. Most seven year old children are more concerned about missing their favourite episode of Rugrats than they are about death, grief and all the things that follow suit.

I still remember the day that everything changed, as if it was yesterday. Which for me is remarkable, given my cruddy memory. As soon as I came home from school I was piled back into the car, eager to tell my parents about my day it fell on deaf ears. My mother waited in the car with me whilst my father went into the doctors, I had no idea what was going on but I knew things weren't right. When he returned not a word was said we all just sat in silence as we returned home, upon which return I was told to go to my room. Of course, being the nosey person I am I didn't do so, I sat on the stairs instead and listened to the painful conversation that my parents shared. All I remember is my dad saying "I've got cancer".

Even seven year olds know that such words spell trouble. Confused and scared I had nobody to turn to, I couldn't tell anybody because I wasn't suppose to know. When they called me back into the room I found it difficult to even look at my parents, I was scared and alone and I knew that everything was about to change.

Over the next few months my dad started treatment, I was never told explicitly why he was going into hospital but I obviously knew. I was only a child, but in those short months I left my childhood behind, it was gone forever, I had realised that things were not what they seemed in the cruelest way possible.

More months passed and my dads condition began to deteriorate, I remember over hearing somewhere that the cancer, which was once isolated to his lungs had spread to his liver and brain. Our last Christmas together, in 2001, was when I was nine, everybody tried to act normal for my sake as well as my dads but it was one of the most painfully tragic experiences I have ever come to known.

Despite all of this, I stayed positive. I was nine years old for Christ sake! If you can't be positive in your childhood when can you be? Though, of course I knew the reality I was just too scared to admit it. It got so bad that he was admitted to Bart's, a hospital in London. I finally accepted that there was no going back, though he may of improved enough to come home for a few short weeks it wasn't long before he was put back into hospital.

I remember visiting him one final time. Perhaps this is even clearer than it was back then. He was on a 24 hour morphine supply, so out of it that even when awake he didn't know who anybody was. This was when I said goodbye, I kissed him on the forehead because I still believe I'd have another chance. I was too scared to let go, to let go of the person I was closest to. But as I walked out the hospital door I realised they'd already gone and had been gone for some time.

Because, when somebody becomes so ill that they don't even recognise their own daughter you realise there is no going back, no matter how young you are. Since that day, my life has never been the same. My life is different now, it's not sad nor is it full of thoughts connected to this. Yes, of course it still bothers me from time to time. I don't go a day without considering what my dad would have thought on a situation. He's still a part of me, he lives on through my heart and the decisions I make.

I don't blame my parents for not sharing the details with me. Though it does make me sad that life itself couldn't protect me from picking up on what was going on around me. Yes it has scarred me for life, I'm always worried of something happening to the ones I love. I guess I'm kind of emotionally immature in that way. But my maturity is what has got me through all of this, my father said "you must be strong". Those words echo throughout everything I do, because when you love someone that much you've just got to battle on.

He died at the age of 53, in the May of 2002. I may have grown up without him, though I still regard him as being alive in my mind. He's there for me, in a roundabout way... Life goes on.

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They are the Kings. They are the Queens.
They write the history of the kingdom
and I am something of a devoted Jester.
Earn yourself some easy points

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