It feels like yesterday. That Sunday morning when the call came. “The doctor ‘s asked that the family please come in.”
Me rushing mom to get done while I ordered the Uber. The excruciatingly long drive to the hospital after 7am. I kept my eyes focussed on the sunrise as her yellow-orange glow caressed the clouded skies while it rained, lightly. I knew you were gone but I dared not speak my thoughts and share my heart with mom or Kai.
Upon our arrival at the hospital I held onto Kai’s tiny hand while asking security for a wheelchair as I patiently waited for mom to get out of the car. Her weight, a heavy relief as I pushed her down the never-ending passages of Groote Schuur with Kai walking beside me. Silent and dapper.
The lift took forever to reach F-floor where your corner bed at the window stood empty. Remembering the night before when I stood at that very window and watched the stars light up the night-sky while traffic buzzed below. A sombre feeling while the other patients silently looked our way with sympathy in their eyes.
Knowing that we are yet to be told.
Mom sat in that wheelchair holding on to so much hope even though she knew what awaited us once we followed the doctor into the small room and the nurse offered us tea. That brief moment of complete silence, and then that wailing sound, like knife through my core as mom broke down. Then Kai’s silent tears as I comforted both of them.
A moment etched in my soul, like your signature, tattooed on my wrist. Tomorrow, 4-years ago, the last time I would see your face; peaceful in your death.
Dad, thank you for your continued love, care and guidance. Your death was never the end, it only gave life to a new way of being.
My father was diagnosed, unexpectedly, with stage 4 pancreatic cancer on 16th May 2017. He died 12 days later (28 May 2017), there was no battle, only dignified acceptance.