My Dad passed away at 3:30 this morning, hard to believe that this time last year he was going to Town on the bus virtually every day to do his shopping.
At 96, apart from a bit of a dodgy knee he was extremely healthy.
At the turn of this year he was beginning to neglect himself and always valuing his independence would not allow any interference.
In May following a few falls he was admitted to hospital and on being discharged he moved into a care home.
He loved it once he got used to it and suffering with dementia he soon forgot about his home of 70yrs and referred to the Care home as ‘my home’.
The staff loved him as he was still a bit of a character, unfortunately in July he had another spell in hospital where he was pretty much neglected, I tried every day to get him taken back to the care home but you tend to trust the doctors.
He never really recovered properly although in September he was showing signs of ‘bouncing back’ as the staff told me.
In recent weeks he’d stopped eating and in spite of me begging him to eat something he would always say ‘I’ll eat when I’m hungry’.
He celebrated his 97th birthday in October so I suppose as a fuckiing arseole who wanted to be ‘King of the World’ said, ‘he’d had a good innings’
Sorry if I’ve gone on a bit, it’s been quite an emotional time.
