21.3.26 - 82 - Missing Pa

Today we went to Wok Degree 15 and we ordered our favourite dishes. Fish skin with salted egg yolk, seow bak, white bait, charcoal lava buns, pe tan choke and xiao long bao. Jac told the head waiteress that Pa had passed and she shouldn't ask why he wasn't there. You could see she was so upset when she came to serve us. Pa had only been there on the 22nd of January and had been so well. Which ever way you cut it, it was unexpected.

I called to see Ma at 5 am this morning and she told me that she dreamt that she was at a gathering and there was no one there. Then she heard a voice - Pa's presumably - telling here why was she here - that everyone had left and she was to go as well. Then later when she opened her iPad, Lara's theme popped up on the youtube algorithm - it was the first film which she and Pa and had gone to see. These small things make us happy - it feels as if he is still in touch, still communicating with us. When the Green Parakeets call, I think he is here. 

He is everywhere. 

Dearest Pa, I don't know what to say really. But you went ever so suddenly and left in your wake good good memories. The cope is real. I tell myself a million things, to make myself feel better, but but but - nothing makes it better that you are not here.

I tell myself that we had the best times, travelling around Europe and Ireland and Scotland and England. How you accompanied me to England. How you made sure I was safe. Always. So many things I took for granted in the interim because you were just always there. And then that when I did come back, I didn't really pay more attention to you - nor Ma. But I tell myself that we had it good. We had it good. But the truth is that it will never be enough. Never. 

I also tell myself that if the dementia had taken you, it would have been far far worse.

You'd have forgotten who we were. You'd have become not yourself. We would have struggled to look after you. And really, we had such great innings - in terms of a life well lived. You enjoyed the boys and you enjoyed your games of golf. You enjoyed eating - as recently at the end of January - and you enjoyed the company of others. Then suddenly - you didn't - and then, you were gone.

The cancer apparently took you so quick, but it was painless. There were no infections. No fevers. Nothing. You just decided that this was enough, and you went. And you got to say all those goodbyes. To tell us you loved us over and over and over again. To say, thank you. To say look after Ma. To say look after the boys. And I was able to look after you. To walk with you. Even though we went nowhere. But to the final stop. To have been able to accompany you and to make sure you were safe. That you bad no doubt that we were all going to be there for you. There was no doubt. Hey Pa. I miss you so so so much. I know though, it was always going to be like this. Always. Always.

No matter how much time was spent, it was never going to be enough. Even for the past few years, you had been getting deafer and refused to wear your hearing aids. You forgot things we told you. You would act all surprised over and over again that I was here. You were slowly checking out. And yet, even if you did all of these things, I would have devote myself to you - but you would have never wanted that. You would have never have wanted me to do all of those things for you. 82 was pretty good going. It's what we get.

But Pa, I still miss you so so terribly. I'm so sorry I do - and I think I'll probably miss you for a long long long time yet. I can't even imagine how Ma feels. I promise I shall do my very very best to look after her and make sure she's ok.

Today we cleared the space beneath the desk in the room. We unearthed loads of things - some to be thrown and some to be saved. Some to be given away. It was something to do. It felt good. Ma stopped the newspapers- this morning when the papers were delivered, the slap of the paper on our driveway was no longer. For days, I had carried the newspapers faithfully in to be placed at your seat at the table. I no longer need do this now. Things are being cut. The little habits. The little chores. I remember when it would rain and the papers would get soaking wet. In Ang Mo Kio, the paper would be slid between the gate and door. In Toa Payoh the same. For the first time in more than 50 years we no longer get the papers. A habit of a lifetime ended. 

When I arrived two weeks ago, you were able to sit up and chat and laugh,. I cherish that small window before you were unable to make it to the table. When you seemed like yourself again. I didn't realise that this was it. That was it. I realise it now.

Ma will soon start tidying up. Your clothes, your books of Sudoku, your golf paraphernalia. I didn't realise that when I tidied the hall and created this table for you, it would one day be home to your ashes. 

You are still so close to me - to us. The nights are the worst. It is then I really feel you here and also not here. It's kinda mad really. So crazy. So crazy. 

The only thing that gets me through all of this is knowing what you would have wanted for us. That you crossed over on your own terms. You didn't want a long drawn out painful end. You decided to go like this. And that you wouldn't want us to be so so sad. You would hate that, being sad on your behalf. Because of you. Still I cannot help tearing and crying - I can't help it. Can't.

Here are pictures from today's meal at Wok Degree 15. I know you know what we ordered because you were there watching and sitting along with us. Thank you Pa, thank you for everything. We love you so much.