So… you won Grim…. You won…

Yesterday my mother and I made our way to ward C10 of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. Like the day before, we were met with closed doors. I cursed in my mind. The doors are supposed to open at 4:00pm... it was now 4:20 or there about. Slightly peeved that they were opening the door late again I leaned against the wall for comfort. Five minutes passed, and then the door opened. A few female doctors exit and make their way done the hall. Another minute later, a maid makes the same journey. Two minutes later, a male nurse poked his head out and looked around. He eyes met mine and I saw the spark of recognition in his eyes. When he called me over I suspected it. When he asked if I was Michael Clarke’s daughter I knew it….

He’s dead

Eventually I and my mother were allowed inside. As we walked I looked across to where his bed was. The beige, floral curtain was pulled all the way around.

He’s dead

The nurse told us to sit down but my mother insisted that he tell her what happened. “If he’s dead you can tell me you know...” God knows those words wrenched my heart.

The nurse confirmed it… My dad had died just after 4:00 pm.

I didn’t know whether to cry, to sit, to walk or to just curl up in a ball in the corner and babble like an idiot. In an instant the room became cloudy. As cliché as it sounds, I felt like I was in a dream, I still do.

I still wish I could wake up …..

We sat at the table and for the first time I could remember my mother hugged me. The doctor came in and explained what had happened. Basically because of his Alzheimer’s and the fact he couldn’t eat, his brain had starved. She did the usual… offered her condolences and then she told us that we could see him if we wished. My mother got up to go looked at me and asked me if I wanted to come.

I looked up at her…. And that’s when it hit me….

I cried and shook my head. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t see him lifeless. I could look at his still chest…

I still feel guilty for not saying goodbye… for not kissing him…. My mother told me he looked so peaceful…

I don’t know if I can forgive myself for that….

The rest of that night is all a blur. I hugged my sister and cried on her shoulder for the first time ever. I cried on the phone with my best friend. I cried on my boyfriend’s leg as he stroked my hair. I cried that my mother hadn’t cried. I cried un til I couldn’t cry anymore.

I listened to the parade of friends and family as they gave their condolences until I was sick. I walked around aimlessly, not sure of what I was doing. I laughed at the stories of my father. And that night I lay next to my mother shifting in and out of sleep… clutching his pillow… inhaling the smell of him. Yes it was the smell of sickness… but underneath that was his scent and I breathed it all in, and fought the urge to cry again. I hugged my mother and then I slept.

I miss you dad

I love you

Michael Disraeli Clarke….born 4^th November 1946, died 20^th May 21, 2007