What you learn from the sudden death of a parent

Today marks 6 months since my father passed away (I can't believe I am actually writing this). 

(trigger warning, if you're sensitive to death this may not be the best thing to read).

I remember this day like it was yesterday. I was almost at the end of my final hand in, half way through final term of second year. I used to go home from Uni every other weekend but in this case, I hadn't actually been home for a good 4 weeks (which was unusual and strange for me because i'm really close to my family). Because of this I was super excited, like the first time in ages that I was so buzzing to see them because it had been a lot longer than usual. I was having such a good time and making lots of lovely memories - me and my flatmates had lots of days out in the boiling hot sunshine and I was looking forward to showing my family the photos and telling them what we'd been up to. I also recently had new tattoos that my family hadn't seen in the flesh yet, that I was looking forward for them to seeing. And also, I realised I was finally at peace with myself after getting over and detaching myself from my cheating ex boyfriend and the grief that came out of it. I was in a really positive and happy place and I even remember posting on Snapchat how happy I was, on the train back home.

It's weird though, how your world can be flipped upside down in a matter of seconds. Because I had no idea what I was going to be told when I got home. I do remember wondering where my Dad was when I arrived, and when we were going to see him - we'd always have Fish n' Chip Friday's together when I was home. And he almost always picked me up from the train station.

My mum told me she was about to tell me the worst thing that she could ever tell me. 

Hearing this panicked me - I thought the worst. And something in my mind clicked - my Dad was in hospital only a few days ago? Here's a little background story. My dad had COPD (kind of like, a more severe version of Asthma) and a few days earlier I remembered my mum telling me on the phone that my dad was in hospital because he was struggling to breathe - she told me not to worry because they'd sorted him out by putting him on some oxygen tanks and they thought he was well enough to be released so he was (my mum and brother were with him at the hospital and even went to buy some food for him after he was released - he seemed his normal usual self. He needed help with a few things due to having an operation on his shoulder about a month before - limiting him to only use of one of his arms while it was healing). I remember worrying a little, as this was the first time my Dad had been in hospital due to his COPD. But I thought he would be fine and tried not to worry too much as I had an exhibition the next day that I needed to focus on.

Knowing this information I obviously thought something must have happened to my Dad. I guess my brain just connected the dots. Although I could never have prepared myself to hear that he had died unexpectedly. His neighbour that he was good friends with found him the day after he was released from hospital - and judging by his clothes and the food he'd had left out, it seems he left us that same night he was released from hospital. Turns out it was cardiac arrest - so at least it was sudden and he wasn't in pain. But I can't help but think that if the hospital hadn't released him, we'd still have him here today.

The worst part about this death is how sudden and completely unexpected it was (I mean, who can predict a heart attack?). I'd only heard from him a few days earlier (at 3am actually - he often messaged me to tell me to go to sleep because I'd often stay up late and he knew it was a bad habit of mine. He wanted me to take care of myself, and after seeing how I was in first year when I was riddled with anxiety - he wanted me to be happy and healthy. Though c'mon Dad, maybe you should sleep earlier too). The last time I saw my dad however, was actually on my 21st birthday. It was lovely. Me, Mum and Dad went to Frankie's n' Benny's (he kept giving me his mushrooms because he knew I loved them - he did this a lot. He'd rather give me food off of his plate than eat the food himself, thinking it was better off given to me), and then went to see The Greatest Showman (brilliant film I might add). So it was a really nice last physical memory of him I guess. Little did I know that it'd be the last time I'd spend time with him. 

I've had a lot of family passing in recent years - I've had my grandma, an auntie, my dog Harvey of 15 years and a close family friend. My other grandparent's passed when I was young - so I've always had a tiny family really. But with all these other passings, I kind of knew they were going to happen - if that makes sense? My grandma had a stroke. My auntie had cancer. My dog had arthritis and was loosing use of his back legs. They were all unwell, so it wasn't a huge shock when we found out. I mean obviously, we were devastated. But at least there was an actual reason for their death - they were poorly and unfortunately it was their time to go. 

Where as my dad, yeah he had COPD but we never really thought about it because it didn't really effect him that much. He was still able to do everything he was always able to do (until his shoulder operation that was in a result of him working hard as an electrician). Until this time, he was never in hospital or anything for it. Yeah I worried sometimes, but I never thought and never prepared for him to just die out of nowhere. That's the hardest part of it - the complete shock.

It's so overwhelming to try and understand and grasp that someone has gone forever when you only spoke to them a few days ago, and you didn't see them in any condition to pass away absolutely anywhere near anytime soon. Especially when it's a parent - someone that is the reason for your actual existence in this so called life. Someone that's helped raise you, helped provide for you, cared for you, loved you unconditionally and always supported you (especially in recent years as we've got older). 

The thing is - I know my Dad would have never wished this pain on us. If there's conciousness after death I'm pretty sure my Dad would be pretty mad at well, the universe I guess, for taking him from us after what we've already been through. After his concern about my well being particularly in first year and other tough times earlier this year, and after his continuous help and support when I needed him the most - I know that me being upset is the last thing he'd want. But it's difficult because I don't know if I will ever actually get over this. But knowing my Dad wouldn't have wanted this, and knowing how proud he was of my brother and I makes it that little easier.

After speaking to some of my Dad's friends at the funeral, they told us that his children were his trophies. He'd talk about us all the time - and that makes me happy. I could see that though in his eyes, whenever me and him spoke about my artwork, how I'm getting on at uni and what I want to do with my future. He especially loved my art and wanted me to do all sorts with it - including submitting work to one of his friends gallery's. And with my brother, he loved talking about travelling as my brother had a trip to America planned and he knew how much it meant to him. Luckily we got to spend Rome with my Dad last year - and I'm sure we will treasure those memories forever. It was the little things too - if we smiled or laughed, he'd smile and laugh. In most cases he was always trying to make us do those things - because all he wanted for us was to be happy. 

I know he was proud of me, I know he loved me, and I know that he also thought I was a little bit bonkers. He used to laugh at my little quirks all the time, like eating my food in order (I promise I'm an adult), still playing Sims at this grand old age, doing funky things to my hair, getting tattoos (in which he thought to my surprise were all amazing and used to send photos of them to his friends which was super sweet) and other things that make me, me. But one of my favourite quotes which suits me really well, is when my Dad said:

"my daughter yeah, she doesn't give a fuck"

to his neighbour, and I just thought it was so classic. Because it's true - I don't. I've always been individual and not cared about what people think of me and I just get on with being who I like to be and doing what I want - and don't ever stop to think what people think of me because of it. Not sure where I get it from, but I'm proud of it.

Anyway, I'm really going on a lot here. I didn't intend on this, but I guess it just helps - y'know? I mean this post is for me (and I've not wrote or spoke in this much depth about this.. ever). And if anyone else is going through something similar then that's just a bonus if it helps them in anyway.

Here are the things I have learned from loosing my dad thus far -

• To, as cliche as it sounds, make every moment count and make lots of fond memories - because you never know when life's just going to stop
• It changed my outlook on life - half of me was like, well what's the point in life if it can just disappear out of nowhere and be taken from us? But I was also like, well looks like I better start making the most of my time here.
• To appreciate everyone you have in your life. I am really lucky because I live with some super supportive flatmates that love me a lot. I have friends back home that I know will always be there for me even if I don't see them often. I have an amazing boyfriend that has actually helped me a lot without even probably realising (one of my flatmates actually said she thinks my Dad sent him to look after me - bless her). And of course, I have an amazing little family that are my world. The downside of this though - is the fear of loosing them. I feel like I'm extra aware and worried about loosing any of these people now I know how easy it is for someone to just, go.  
• To try and be the best version of myself that I can possibly be. If I'm only here once, why would I spend my life being a shitty person? Seem's like a waste of existence, that. And that ain't benefiting anybody.
• This kind of goes with the previous point, but since loosing my Dad I am more motivated to look after myself. I do have on and off weeks though - but for the most part, I am eating better, and (sometimes) sleeping better. This is something you really have to work on - which is particularly difficult when you're at uni and have anxiety. 
• I have surprisingly become more motivated with my art and uni work. I thought I'd experience the opposite. But instead I want to work as hard as I possibly can, especially now I am in final year. So I can do him proud and make the most of what I can do.
• Treasure memories - I've always been one to take a lot of photos and collect memorabilia - but I just want to even more now. I have a lot of old family photographs and things that I want to pass down if I ever decide to have children. 
• One of the negative things I realised was that I have to go through the rest of my life without him. I realised if I ever have children, my Dad won't get to be a grandfather - nor would he be able to give me away if I ever get married. But I'm sure my brother will do a good job in his place for him while he's keeping an eye on us up there.
• That death is inevitable and it's time to accept it. As morbid as it is. When I'd lost previous family members in the past - my parents would be the ones to tell me "they're in a better place" and make me feel better. But the fact of the matter is, they were hurting too. And it happens to us all eventually. I seem to go through life not really thinking about it - sometimes not appreciating and making the most of things. My Dad had not long lost his own mother a few years before his passing - and because he was my Dad I thought he was doing fine. He always put on a brave face because he had to - to protect his children's feelings. But now I understand that he must have been hurting too - but yet he kept doing everything he could for us.

How I'm doing -

• At the beginning I had to deal with it extremely quickly. We had the funeral to sort out. We had his house to empty. We had his friends to tell. We had to sort out everything, and asap. 
• At first nothing was that weird. Going through his things I didn't even really think about it - I loved finding old photographs and stuff - but the main purpose was to get shit done. I didn't really think "oh he's dead". I just got on with what needed doing. 
• I had a lot of support from my flatmates, and friends i'd not seen or heard of from a while which was nice. One of my oldest friends was there for me at the funeral service which was really appreciated. 
• My brother went to America just one week after the funeral, so everything was left down to me and Mum. This was the longest i'd ever been away from my brother, and at such a difficult time it was hard and it felt strange. But it was super good for him. And I ended up meeting my boyfriend over this period and he kept me occupied while I was bored senseless over summer and left to my thoughts.
• Ever since I've been back at uni I've not had chance to think about it properly. I mean I think about him every single day - but it's not like 'oh my Dad's dead and i'll never see him again', it's more like 'Dad would like this', 'Dad used to do this' etc. I've been busy spending time with friends and my boyfriend, and doing lots of uni work and getting used to living independently again. 
• But this week it's really hit me. To be fair, I came back from Paris a week ago with my boyfriend, so I think I was physically and emotionally exhausted and was on a bit of a comedown. I also had a deadline this morning so didn't get chance to recover from Paris, and dove straight into 4 nights of 4am bedtimes. When I'm tired I get more sensitive and emotional. And I was also sad because, usually after I'd been on a trip or done something special - I'd be going home to my family to tell them all about it. And it hurt knowing my Dad wasn't there to share my experience with. And of course, today is the 6 month anniversary.
• I know i'll be fine. I have the best support system. And it's okay to allow yourself to feel things sometimes and try come to terms with things. It's okay to be sad sometimes. As long as you make sure you take care of yourself.

I'm going to leave this post here because I've spent a good few hours on this - something that I thought would be a quick 15 minute post. Again, sorry for the emotional subject matter but this post is for me before anything else. 

I will be posting my blog about Paris sometime over the weekend, the much happier and enthusiastic Becky will resurface.

p.s - Dad, I've been wearing the bangles you wore every day, every single day since you passed - I'm your lil' blinger.

-x.o, B.E.J