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On Wednesday morning, I sat at work. As a funeral director I came face to face with loss, grieving, and tears everyday, but this Tuesday I had a feeling deep down in my soul that something wasn`t right. After the last funeral of the morning I sat in the small funeral arranging room, a little office to the right of the long corridor which lead to a clinicaly white, frosted glass double swing door, beyond which was our cold storage and mortuary area.

Still I knew something wasn`t right and I placed my mobile on the desk beside the office phone. Though expecting it, I was startled when it was my mobile that came to life vibrating and bleeping with some urgency. I answered it to find my mother on the other end of the line telling me in her constantly panicking way that my father wasn`t well, he`d been to see the local family doctor who had advised a visit to the hospital.
They arrived at my office and I drove towards the hospital, my heart and experience was telling me all the time that I was going to lose my rock, my friend, my dad. I wanted, needed to get to the safety of the hospital to feel the security, but when we arrived I just felt more sure of my impending loss.
As my father was settled onto a ward, I looked at the surroundings feeling more and more like I needed to run away, my mind telling me to treat it like just another job, my heart desperately trying to make me see the reality of the situation.
I stayed as late as I could, being strong in front of him, and as soon as I left his sight my heart would crumble, a sickly ache as I knew what was happening.
I`d get home, not eating, going straight to bed, mobile on the pillow beside me, land line phone as close to me as possible.
Though no sleep, I got dressed the following morning, relieved that the phone had been silent, then the overwhelming emotion that I was going back to the hospital kicked in, all the time my mind telling me that my father would be ready to go home.
I returned back to the ward, but dad was no better, I sat talking to him, my heart breaking, he was all smiles, as always.It was too much I had to get air!. I stood in the corridor outside the ward sobbing my heart out, I couldn`t bare to go back in, but I needed too.
I walked in and sat quietly back in my seat, I talked about cars, and in perticular our favourites Saabs!, he seemed to pick up as we laughed about all the cars we had owned, and our driving escapades.
Soon, visiting time was over and i felt guilty for being relieved, but again i returned home, straight to bed, no food, but one difference, I fell to sleep, waking up at six am, I knew something wasn`t right, i checked my phones, but no missed calls.
I lay in bed, wide awake staring at my mobile as I held it in front of me. An hour later I rolled onto my side looking at the land line phone just as it rang, I felt strangely calm as I picked up the reciever, knowing what I was about to be told, dad was gone.

For the rest of the morning i sat at mums, I contacted friends and family as if i was at work, no tears, i was too exhausted to cry, my mind made me deal with it all as if I was dealing with a client, right upto the day of the funeral.

Now, four years on, I feel as empty, and lonely as i did when I first took my dad to the hospital, I still forget and go to call him when I do something good, I still forget to cry, but I don`t forget that I am not over the pain and loss that I feel every day.

Learn more about this author, Theron Hemsell.
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