My Dad Died.
“we all do in the end” he said often enough.
So, you may or may not have followed the slow journey of my dad’s dementia that I have been writing about for over three years. He went from living independently to living in a care home next door to me to dying on Sunday 9th April.
Dad used to go to AA meetings in Govan for years ( he was sober 36 years) and get off the underground at my house where I would meet him. Slowly but surely he stopped managing this and I would photograph each arrival expecting it to be his last. This was his last.
He had a series of wee strokes, one when he was on the phone to me when I was in Los Angeles. I managed to get him help immediately by calling a neighbour of his and my husband. He survived but started to have mobility issues.
My dad was a smart man, he worked as a chemical technician for The Welcome Foundation. He could paint and draw and was sharp as a Glasgow tack. Things went fast and slow and eventually he started wandering out of his house when left alone. We were faced with heart breaking decisions.
We redesigned his garden which he loved sitting in and made it perfect for him to walk in.
He only got eight weeks in that garden but we made the best of every moment.
Then eventually he ended up not walking good but still full of life and living in the care home beside me. The people and the staff were awesome and because it was only 66 steps from my door I could see him daily.
This year he went downhill very fast and ended up in hospital.
Then he died in his sleep at 4am on 9th April.
My heart is broke. But I was lucky he was a good daddy.