Since Dad turned 60 just 5 weeks ago several things happened.
He learnt he was to be a grandfather.
His younger daughter moved abroad.
His close friend and minister moved away.
He completed on a new house.
He fought to go part-time in his work as a school inspector.
On Saturday just gone, he had a heart attack.
Everyone who knows my dad knows he is a man with a big heart. It is early days now. People are learning what has happened, and are being very kind.
I saw him later in the day, and he did not look like my dad. Nurses were injecting him slowly with morphine and counting down the pain. Machines were beeping out of sync. Even the curtains weren’t real. Inside we were both crying, but on the outside I told him of my trip out and then sat, speechless. Funny thing was, I didn’t want to go anyway. But my friend was waiting in the cafeteria, and my mum was going to return, and there were clocks to change and meals to take away and people to feed. There was also monopoly on the cards if mum returned, which she did, and we did, and I didn’t win. But I don’t think any of us did.
His colour (under the undignified electrical monitors) was hardly normal.
So on Sunday I wanted to see him, as I was returning to school and needed a healthier mental image. He was pink, alert, thoughtful and he was my dad again. I could have cried, but inside I was laughing.