Okay, I know... I know... I did it again... I've actually had a few rather busy days. Well... You'll see. --- 9th September 2018 Coming up to the end of my first weekend. I woke up this morning feeling totally floored. I really felt useless after not having done any work yesterday, and I was seriously thinking hard for a little while about dropping everything, and calling it quits. I could always sign up for the military and get the hell out of here. There's just so many reminders about my dad here, and it really is a struggle to stay sane. I forced myself out of bed, and visited my ex-girlfriends mother's home. Her husband had asked me for some help on Friday to take a TV off the wall. When I arrived, we had a chat for a while about things, and it surprised me how much they knew of things going on at home. It's obvious my ex had told them everything. For a moment I was very upset at just how much she'd robbed from me, but I thought better of it, and just let him know everything was slowly coming together. I helped take the TV down - (It was quite big, and my ex's mum is not exactly fighting fit herself right now.) Once it was down, I told them I needed to do some shopping and head home. They offered to come with me, and I agreed. At the shops I gathered my bits, and some food for the day, I was very surprised when they bought me a two litre bottle of Dr Pepper. During our conversation earlier in the day, they'd asked about my money troubles, and asked if I needed any help. Of course I'd refused, but I had mentioned about removing any junk from my diet because of the budget I needed to live on. The bottle of Dr Pepper as a surprise really touched me somewhere I thought had gone numb. I said my thank you's, and kept a straight face. As soon as I got home, I treated that bottle like it was a prized gift. It went into my fridge, and I vowed not to touch it until I deserved a good reward for something. I arrived home not too long after, when I did, I broke down. That gift had really touched the spot. I really don't understand grief. Seriously... Is it really going to make me start dropping to tears over bottles of Dr Pepper. I am beginning to think it's something seriously wrong with me, and maybe its time I book an appointment with a real Doctor. Although maybe its totally normal, and I'm just an idiot for resisting natural processes. Either way, I ate, sat down to study, and shortly after found myself on YouTube again. Another wasted day. Come the evening, Alexa reminded me that I have paperwork to fill out for my dad. I gathered the paper together, and began reading the forms. They were for my dad's body bequest at the university. They wanted to know about my fathers Cremation wishes, and just reading them was hard enough. I filled them out as best I could, until I hit the question, "What are your wishes for your relatives ashes?" I had three options. First, the ashes get scattered by the crematorium. Second, I collect the ashes. Or Three, They do whatever they like. I had to think hard about this, my father never wanted me to just keep his ashes somewhere on a shelf and have it sit there doing nothing. So I was left with option one, or three. I elected for option one, but when asked where to scatter his ashes, this was a hard thing to think about. My father really enjoyed people watching, when he was still fit and healthy, his highlight of the week was going to a coffee shop in the city centre to sit down, drink coffee, chat with me, and watch people outside going about their daily business. He also enjoyed going to Bristol Cathedral to sit in the garden there and relax. The flood of memories this thinking caused, caused an emotional outburst I wasn't prepared for. I eventually asked for his ashes to be scattered in a flowerbed, or near a large tree that overlooks a pathway. So that he could rest in a beautiful garden, people watching as he always used to enjoy. Such a short paragraph took me almost an hour and a half to write - battling through tears the whole way. by the time I was done form filling, I decided to finish my day and go to bed. Tired, emotionally exhausted, and still feeling totally useless. 10th September 2018 I need to be productive today. One way or another I really need to pull my finger out and make some progress. I woke up early, got cleaned, dressed and gathered my laptop, as well as the forms I'd completed the day before. My first stop was my local post office to send off the forms. Next, the local health centre, as one of the forms was required to be filled out by a medical practitioner, something about a "Confirmation of Lack of risk of infection". Although since they already have his body at the university, this was dumb to ask me to get filled out now. I mean can you imagine that form arriving with them saying his body is filled with parasites... Too fucking late bitches! You're already dead! Mua-ha-haa! Anyway, I went from there straight to the bus stop. I was leaving for university myself. I had decided to spend the day there to get a change of scenery. It was the best thing I could have done. I had arrived near midday, four hours and a THOUSAND words, thats right, a THOUSAND words later I was on my way home. I am pretty sure I walked out of the university strutting my stuff, feeling like an absolute god! I'd not only managed to get some work done, but I'd made massive progress compared to what I'd done previously. It felt amazing! After leaving university, I headed again to my ex's mother's home. This time I was heading there to put the TV back up. Turns out her husband hadn't quite completed painting the wall behind it yet, but that's okay, I stayed for a while to chat anyway. The only thing that bothered me was that this time, my ex was there too. I had a very stark reminder while there at just how young her head is. Her twelve year old brother was there, and he was enjoying playing around. He's quite an excitable young kid, stick thin, and about 5 feet tall with short brown hair that he combs forward. Another thing to mention is that he's obsessed with Nerf guns. I'm really looking forward to two years from now when he is finally old enough to attend Airsoft events. I have a feeling he will transition very quickly from Nerf to Airsoft. Anyway, I'm going off topic. Shortly after arriving home from school, he realised I was there, and immediately began showing off, as kids his age generally do. After some word play, and some funny name calling (playful, not nasty), my ex started getting upset, mostly because she has incredibly thin skin. Presumably because someone blowing sound waves towards her is enough to cause shock waves of pain to enter her body. She got upset, very upset. Her brother proceeded to do what any amazing younger brother would do in this moment. Especially one who is obsessed with Nerf guns. He ran upstairs, grabbed his best Nerf gun, ran back downstairs, and proceeded to begin shooting her, and me. I broke out into hysterics. It was hilarious. My ex's previously rather upset face turned into a dead straight one. She picked up each Nerf dart that landed near her and threw them back at her brother. Her Mother, Step father and i were all laughing, until she became upset about being shot, and ran at her brother. Of course her brother took off upstairs, ran into his room and locked the door. I assume he began re-arming himself ready for his next assault. She however came back downstairs, before getting into an argument with her mother about encouraging her brother to cause trouble, from my point of view the only problem with the situation was that my ex just doesn't have a thick skin. The result of this upset late teen, early twenties tantrum was that her mother asked her to leave, and since I'd been there for an hour already, I decided to leave as well. Besides, I needed to visit the shops to get myself a reward for the days hard work. In retrospect, I wish I'd left it a little while after she'd left. I spent the next ten minutes walking with her, listening to her complaining about her brother. I was happy to create some distance between us, so I made it clear her to her that she was in the wrong and needed to develop a thicker skin. This upset her even more... Duh... I was past caring however, and I made it clear to her. I walked home from the shops with four chocolate chip muffins, and a lamb hotpot. Although I need to get away from the frozen foods, It tasted great, and the muffins went down well with an ice cold glass of the ol' doctor. I spent the rest of the night researching an Airsoft pistol called the Hi Capa 5.1 Gold Match, its a gun I would love to buy after I get a job. My ex began texting me, and looking for conversation at some point, I had very little interest in it. I went to bed feeling amazing after my progress. Tomorrow I'm going to double it, but I'm staying at home. I need to be able to work at home alone. 11th September 2018 - Morning I know you were expecting this, but little work done so far today. I needed to update this blog, so I decided to do that, as well as some cleaning around the house before actually getting to any studying. Still. I have plenty of time today. Although If I don't hit at least the eight thousand words tonight, I'm really going to have to drop any plans for fun for the rest of the week.
Okay, I realise I'm posting this on the 9th. The truth is that I was so tired last night, I fell asleep at my desk. When I woke up, I moved to my bed, and slept again for a while. I'm writing it now because I missed it yesterday. --- Today I felt like a total failure, I woke up this morning determined to write at least a thousand words, but instead I found that I just couldn't concentrate. I figured some food would help, so I went shopping. I bought some bits to make a nice chicken salad, and a pasta bake. I got home, ate, and sat in front of the computer to begin writing part of my dissertation. Fifteen minutes later, I found myself on YouTube, or getting otherwise distracted. My focus just wasn't on my studies, and my motivation was just not there to be found. I think the problem was that every time I looked at my work, I would immediately remember the way my father would push me to always do the best I could do on it. It was his encouragement that had made me start my masters in the first place. Although this would ordinarily have made me work hard to get the best grade I could get. Instead it seems to be making me feel frustrated, and angry. My emotional roller-coaster seems to be reaching another dive, and mentally, I feel like I just want to escape from it all. I guess thats why I watch YouTube video's instead. I seem to be getting some comfort from watching other peoples problems, or watching other people being really happy, somehow hiding my own feelings by pretending I'm in the video's along with the people I am watching. I know this is unhealthy, and It just makes me more angry that I'm allowing myself to fall into this trap. I really didn't do much today, I maybe progressed by a hundred words. I wanted to go to bed at around 9:00pm, but I had promised a friend in the US I'd be online to chat to him. I really didn't think it was going to happen. Whilst trying to find something to keep me occupied until he came online, I began thinking of work after this dissertation was done, and it came to mind that I could apply for the military. My thought process included the thought that if I were able to join, and pass basic training, just the basic training on its own would be enough to teach me to be my own man. Of course I would then have to devote some years of my life to the forces, but at the same time, with my training, and qualifications academically, I would be qualified for roles that would pay very well. With free, or cheap accommodation, as well as free food, I think that most of my money would just go straight to my bank. On top of this, the physical training and exercise would help me to maintain a very healthy weight. Something I have struggled with on my own. When I started looking at these roles, it became clear I would need to devote a significant amount of my life to the forces. Whilst not a really bad thing on its own, My father and I always had plans to leave the country. I also cannot shake the feeling that if I did join the services, my father would come back from the grave to kill me for doing it. Although he served himself, he always felt like the country had abandoned him after he had left. He left the military with no qualifications, and was fortunate that a local college had offered him a welding course that made it possible for him to find a job. The problem I have is that the countries I would like to immigrate to, require me to be under thirty-five years of age when I apply for permanent residency. I'm currently twenty-four years of age. Meaning if I spend just eleven years in the services, I would be too old. I can hear you asking, "Whats the issue?" Well the issue is that the jobs and roles I would be qualified for in the services, all require me to spend a minimum of twelve years. That's where this plan falls to pieces. I really have to make a decision on whether or not I am moving to another country, or if I am going to devote my life to defending the country I am a citizen of. (That's right, I wasn't even born in England, I'm just going to apologise to some of my close friends, who may not know this yet. Well... You do now.) Anyway, I ended up falling asleep at my desk at around 10:00pm - 11:00pm. I did wake up at some point in the night, but I went straight to bed. Definitely felt like total crap when I did. I am going to hope I wake up feeling a bit better.
I spent most of today just trying hard to relax. I woke up this morning, cleaned up as usual, and began charging my batteries - this time literally - for my evening of Airsoft. I also finally received a call back from Macmillan about my financial situation. I was not surprised to hear that I am not entitled to any form of benefit at all because I am a full time student. It's amazing really, had I been working, I would be entitled to almost everything under the sun, but as a student, I'm not only screwed over by the fact I have no income, but I'm also screwed over by our own government because they think that as I'm a student, I must have some "income" through a student loan that barely covers my tuition costs. In any case, argument here is futile. I would compare it to shouting at a brick wall, but I think I would get more response from a brick wall than my local councillor. The lady at Macmillan did suggest however that maybe the university would have some money in a crisis fund that might help my situation. It's a slim chance, but I'll take it. If I don't ask, I'll never get anything, besides, the worst they can do is say "no". At around midday, a friend of mine arrived, and we talked, played some games, and generally prepared for Airsoft that evening. This friend is someone I've known since school. He is an interesting guy, but I must admit he is not someone I would really consider an amazing friend. More on this later. At some point, I forget when, we took a trip to the bank, and I made the appointment I'd mentioned yesterday. They seemed perfectly fine with me opening a second account for my purposes, so I'm very satisfied with the result. The problem is that this appointment is ten days away. Which is really cutting it close if I am going to pay for my graduation. After that, we ordered a taxi, met up with another friend, and went to Airsoft. The rest of my night was spent running around, and shooting at strangers with a BB gun. I must admit, this morning I had woken up feeling really down. I felt like things just weren't working, and after realising I would have to spend over forty pounds on Taxis and Airsoft today, it really made me think seriously about whether I can continue this hobby until I get a job. In the past, we would normally meet up, and a third friend who has a car would drive us in, and take us home after. Meaning instead of forty pounds on Taxi's we'd just spend six pounds for parking, and a little fuel. Sometimes I hate the fact I studied Accounting, it really makes me think about these things very hard, and I can't help but think that since his car broke down, I've been making a rather horrible loss. Thankfully, my friends shared the bill for the Taxi's making the cost considerably less, but still nearly double what we would normally pay. Anyway, the night of Airsoft has really given me a lot of time to think things through, and the release of aggression has given me a what I think is a clearer mind, but I may just be tired. The first friend I mentioned had left early, I think the truth is he was more interested in going to get KFC rather than spending time with us. Tonight was his second night at Airsoft, and even though he has spent a lot of money on Airsoft kit. The truth is he is not the kind of person who will stick to it. It's frustrated even more because my friends and I had all decided to use tonight as my birthday celebrations, considering the events of last weekend. (If I haven't already mentioned it, It was my birthday last week on Friday.) When he left early for his food, and when he did it so simply without even considering the rest of us as a group, it really did feel like a punch to the gut. Although I am likely to go to Airsoft next week, I will probably not be calling this friend when I do. I'm sorry if it sounds like I am being horrible, but I must admit, It's upset me a lot today, even if I can't really fully explain why. Something else happened today that has me thinking. When my father was alive, and at home, we got into the routine of me sleeping on his bedroom floor on a mattress. The reason for it was that he would quite frequently wake up in the middle of the night struggling to breath, and on multiple occasions needed my help to get him water, or open the windows and doors to get some clean air, etc. This morning I moved this mattress back into my own room because I expected the Oxygen company to arrive and collect his Oxygen equipment. When I got home tonight, I just didn't feel comfortable sleeping in my own room. When I initally laid down, it felt awkward and strange. I was so high up compared to normal. In the end I gave up and took the mattress back into my dads room, and placed it on the floor in its usual position. While doing it, I asked myself, "Why am I doing this dad? Why is it that I really need to have this mattress in there to feel comfortable? I know you aren't there anymore, and I know you aren't struggling anymore. I shouldn't have to worry about you waking up." I still have these questions rolling in my head as I write this. When I'd prepared my bed, I sat down and pulled out my laptop to fill out this blog post. Just before starting I spoke to Alexa again. "What happens to people after they die?", She crashed. Somewhat disappointed, I say, "Alexa, my dad died recently.", she's obviously not programmed to deal with such deep conversations, and its made clear to me when she replies, "I'm sorry, I don't know that one." Really, what did I expect to gain from this? Maybe I really have crossed the boundary into madness, or maybe I'm really just lonely now. I'm beginning to feel cold, and hungry. I'm going to eat, drink, then take a trip to dreamland. At least there my troubles just disappear, and I can really relax. That is before being dragged back to reality by this thing we call life. Either way, tomorrow is a new day, and its time to start really studying again. My goal now is to get myself to a decent point in my dissertation. I'm currently sitting on 4500 words, and I need to write somewhere between 12,000 and 15,000. Tomorrow, I must hit at least 7,000 words, and 10,000 by Sunday. If I achieve this, I will have caught up a decent amount. Next week, I'll spend a lot of time at university. If all is well, I should have reached a near completed state by next Friday, either that or I'm going to end up consumed by the feeling of failure. If my dad really is sat up there watching, I'm sure he'd be saying, "You've wasted too much time! Why didn't you do any studying last week!" etc. Anyway, enough waffle. Goodnight.
Maybe I am deluding myself, but I am feeling better again today. I followed my usual morning routine of waking up fine, then crashing, but after I'd washed and cleaned, I actually felt a lot more relaxed. To be honest today I felt awkward. I feel like I should be crying more, and hurting more about my fathers death. The truth is that I don't really feel anything unless I am alone, and usually only if I am at home. Maybe its like I said before, where I really did mourn his death before he died, and really his death was just a formality in the end; Or maybe the truth is that I haven't really felt it yet, simply because of the nature of my life since his death. I have been so busy either sorting out his bills and what would happen to his body that I just haven't had the time to process his death. I went to the shops today, and on my way home I was thinking to myself about what I'd say to my dad when I got in. They say that grief is processed in stages, and I'm wondering now whether or not I really have passed the first stage of denial? It's a horrible feeling. One moment you are considering a situation like this, where you are getting ready to talk to him, then it hits you that he won't be there. It's almost like sitting there at the side of his bed again, watching his head slowly falling towards that pillow. Just another punch to the gut when you remember he's gone. Anyway, I woke up at the usual time today, 8:00am, although I realised I've run out of episodes of "The Gamer" to read. Now I have to wait for more to be written. Instead I spent some time going through the other stories there, and began downloading the first hundred episodes of the "Tower of God", it's one of the comics I've heard good things about, so I'll give it a try. This was going to take a while, so I forced myself out of bed to wash. The download still wasn't done when i got dressed, so I sat there talking to Alexa for a while searching for the meaning of life. Turns out its "Forty-two", and when I asked, "Why?" "Douglas Adams said he just throught '42 will do'. There's no deeper reason." Half amused and half disappointed, I walked to my desk to begin making calls. I have managed now to sort out most of my fathers bills and turn them over into my name. The only bill left, is my fathers Internet bill. Which as I discussed yesterday has been very frustrating. I called them again, and I was told, "We are working on it. Unfortunately we are very busy at the moment, and our team will call you as soon as possible." It took them most of the day, but in the end they called. As my luck would have it, I missed the call. They left a voicemail asking me to call them. I'll let you just picture the moment I called them back. Lets just leave it at the fact that this bill is still not sorted. I've hit breaking point with them, I really don't care anymore. I've left my email for them in a voicemail. Let them put this stuff in writing now, I really can't be bothered to waste any more of my time trying to call them. I also swapped his amazon account over to my name, its a little stupid to think that his internet company takes days to do this, and yet amazon took just five minutes on a live chat instead of a phone call. Totally ridiculous. After that, it was around 10:00am I went to meet a friend who works in my local supermarket. She is an amazing person, she spent most of yesterday cooking, and she's brought two portions of a veggie pasta bake for me. What have I done to deserve such wonderful friends? I'm beginning to wonder if I was some kind of absolute saint in my previous life, or is it possible that I've managed to roll a natural 20 in luck for this role playing game we call life? When I finally got home, I decided to revisit my finances. Currently I have no means of paying for things online, and frankly I need to figure something out by the end of October. My graduation from university is on the 26th November, and the deadline for gown hire is the 1st November. Sadly the only way to pay for this is online. Frankly I'm an accountant, I should be able to "account" the shit out of this right? Currently, I can't get a credit card, I'm not employed, and I have no stocks and shares, which means no income. No income means no guarantee I can pay the credit card bill, so If I were stupid enough to apply for a credit card from my bank - despite the thousands of letters I receive from them asking me to - I would find that my credit rating would start sinking rapidly. Instead I need another solution. The next option is a debit card, now I know that many people my age are very happy to have them, and more than happily use the contact-less debit cards, or various phone payment methods to pay for things. The problem with a debit card, is that this money is stripped straight from my bank account. Meaning I have very little ability to see money really coming from my account - the reason I predominantly use cash for everything. The solution I've thought of is to open a second bank account, then have a debit card for this second account. This might sound totally stupid initially, but my thoughts on this is that I can put money in this account when, and only when I want to buy something online. Then after I've bought it, the account should stay virtually empty. If I ensure it has no overdraft, I'm not in danger of any debt there, and by keeping it empty - unless I want to spend something - I limit any risk of fraud. The problem with the solution... I actually need to find time to go to the bank every time I want to buy something, but then again, this means if I'm going to spend money on the card, I am going to have to really think about how much I want whatever it is I am going to buy. Which could be another advantage depending on how you look at it. The other consideration is whether I can actually afford to go to graduation this time. It is going to cost me £51 just to hire my gown for the day. Then i have to consider travel, food, photographs, etc. I should just budget a flat £100 for the day. But this is half a week of spending for me, considering my money will run out in December even without accounting for that £100. It's a huge deal, however I think my father would have wanted me to go to it, because it would give me some photo's that I could keep to show my children one day, and hopefully encourage them to work towards the same. Damn it Dad, you only had to stay alive another three months. Why did you have to die so soon?!? Once my finances were finished, It occurred to me to check the TV license, and it turns out this runs out at the end of this month too. It only costs £38 every three months, so its not so bad. Their website was down, I'll have to remember to deal with this later. Another excuse to use Alexa here, she is actually very handy to have around for organisation. Especially given that it only takes a simple voice command to create a reminder. Something I find funny with it though, is that after making a reminder, I automatically thank Alexa, even though she stops listening after the reminder is made. I always pause, expecting her to say, "No Problem", or "That's okay", only for her to say nothing. Maybe I'm just not used to her yet. The rest of the day has been spent twiddling my thumbs, playing a few games, watching YouTube, and preparing for Airsoft tomorrow. I'm sure if my father is up there anywhere watching me, he'd be proud of the fact I'm keeping my shit together, and sorting everything related to him out quickly, but I'm sure he'd be shouting at me for not having done any good quantity of studying all week. I'm going to have to work extra hard over the weekend, and put some good hours in. I also spoke to a friend of mine who is going to Airsoft with me tomorrow. He isn't aware of my fathers death yet, but he'll be visiting tomorrow at noon. Also, the Oxygen company will be over at any time between 9:00am and 5:00pm, and I also would like to visit the bank to make an appointment for that new account. One of two things will happen tomorrow. Either its all going to be really smooth, easy and simple; Or I'm going to have a nervous breakdown. Here goes nothing.
I've had a much better day today, I feel like I've actually made some progress on things. One thing I didn't mention last night was that a friend of mine from Airsoft (One of my hobbies) contacted me - he is one of the friends who I messaged the night my father died. He asked me if I would be free this morning, and offered to take me to lunch. I whole heartedly accepted. I needed to see a face I recognised, and someone who I knew was going through something similar to me. What I didn't really know in much detail before was that he is also facing the same mental trauma I am. His grandfather was diagnosed with sepsis, and its clear that he will also be leaving us soon. Why is it that when hard times hit me, suddenly everyone around me faces the same issues I am? Maybe that's just how life works. Anyway, we agreed to meet at 11:30am. I'd woken up much earlier at around 8:00am, but as usual the initial great feeling you feel after a good nights sleep faded very quickly when I realised my father wasn't in his bed, or in the chair he'd sit in by the computer. My morning ritual repeating itself again. As the weight fell over my shoulders again, I grabbed at my tablet quickly bringing up my morning dose of "The Gamer", I read this until around 9:00am, when I dragged my lazy backside out of bed. Had a bath, and cleaned up ready for the day ahead. I managed to call several companies and began to sort out my dad's final affairs. For the first time in my life, I actually have bills attached to my name. I just wish it had been at a point where I had some good financial backing. That safety net that most people my age rely on just doesn't exist for me anymore. If I suddenly find these bills getting too high for me, I don't have a parent to contact and request little bits of money each month to stay out of debt. I have to really be careful with my money from now on. Luckily I have enough savings until mid December before my bank account hits zero. That means I can finish my Masters first, this ends on 26th September, and then all I need to do is focus on getting a job as soon as possible. As long as I can get something before the end of October, I should be okay. My bills currently work out to around £190 a week. That means as long as I can earn more than that, I'm good. Temporary work as an accountant will pay around £9 to £10 an hour at the lowest, meaning if I can get any accounting job, I would need only around 20 hours a week to cover my expenses, making my money last longer, and giving me time to get a permanent job. There's my goal for next month, ideally sooner. Just as I left home, I received a phone call from the University. They've collected my fathers body, and it is now within the University Morgue. Thank goodness. This lifted a massive burden from my shoulders, and helped me to relax. I now felt very comfortable today because it finally felt like something was actually happening. I left home at 11:00am to meet my friend, and as soon as he arrived we walked to a nearby cafe. Although I offered to pay my share, he refused and paid for my lunch for me. I have no idea how to explain this, but this simple offer almost made me cry. It felt like a strange moment for me initially because I'm not used to people doing anything for me, like I said before, I was always raised to deal with everything myself. Anyway, we sat down to a full English breakfast, and a Dr Pepper. This was actually the first real freshly cooked hot meal I'd had since my father died, and although it was rather greasy, and slightly too crispy for my usual taste, every bite was like heaven. While eating, he spent time going over everything I needed to do after my dad's death. I showed him everything I had already done, and he was pleased that I was holding up rather well. I don't really believe his conclusion, I feel like I'm drowning in paperwork, and although my home has not been re-arranged in years, it feels like a jungle of furniture and paperwork at the moment. I really should spend some time to change my home scenery. Thankfully we both agreed I had thought of everything, but even now I can't escape the feeling that I've forgotten something. After discussing the formalities of death, we talked a while about my father, and his grandfather. Something I should mention here is that because i have played a lot of Airsoft over the summer, I have managed to make friends with several ex-military personal, this friend is one of them, and this is something he shares in common with my father. Which also made this conversation very difficult, especially after having discussed the last days of my fathers life with him, and some of the things my father had said during his confusion. I am wondering now whether my father was really confused, or simply trying to tell me something that he had suppressed for many years. I have not mentioned it before, but during one of my fathers confused moments, he had called a nurse because he wanted to tell them something, after a while of trying to catch his breath, he eventually told the nurse that she needed to help the people in the crashed plane. She understandably looked very confused at first, and she looked towards me for help and understanding. I couldn't offer her any because I was just as confused as she was. My father repeated his comment, adding "quickly, otherwise they will die. You need to go help those people in the crashed plane!" She told him she was going to help them after she'd given him his medication. Which she did rather quickly. I guess she was just trying to escape this strange situation. After she left, my father turned to me, "You need to make sure she helps those people, its really important, she needs to help those people. We should have helped those people, we could have saved them." Of course this was all broken up through breaths but his words were clear, and I reassured him I would remind the nurse. He fell asleep. A few moments later, he woke with a start, almost crying he said, "Oh no. Oh no, they're already dead. We could have saved them. We could have saved them Maestro!". I should clarify here that Maestro was his nickname for me. I reassured him that they did their best, but he cut me off, "Maestro there is so much I need to tell you, but nothing to tell you. I am just protecting you." Before he promptly fell asleep again. Again, at the time, i saw this as all just some form of confusion where maybe he was mixing his dreams with reality. When I mentioned this event to my friend, his response was simple, "That sounds like an episode of Code Black that I've watched recently, are you sure it wasn't that?" The answer was of course no, and I knew my friend was making a joke from the look of his face. I also however know my father hadn't watched any Code Black episodes at all, and the mention of this to him made him remind me of my fathers military service. He speculated that it may be related to that, and said that some things are best left unmentioned. Especially some memories from within the services. I changed the subject. After an hour of discussing the coming Airsoft evening on Friday, we left to walk down the high street and met up with another Airsoft friend. The conversations continued until around 3:00pm when we left. I headed home, an he headed to his children's primary school. The next order of business was to cover the remaining bills. I decided to tackle the dreaded internet provider who left me hanging for so long the night before. After thumbing my way through the answer phone to a real human being, I was finally put through to someone who dealt with changes to your services when moving homes. Great. Now to clarify here, because it is very important, I am not a racist person. My mother was Turkish, and he practiced Islam to some level, while my father was white English, and a complete athiest. Great combination, I know. I was put on the phone with a gentleman who had a rather strong Indian accent, which I am slightly ashamed to say that I found very hard to understand, although it might have been partly due to the fact he spoke at a speed that would put Speedy Gonzalez to shame. Also, after I'd told him the situation, he asked to speak to the account holder. "That's my problem, the account holder, my father, is dead. You can't speak to him." "I understand sir, but I really must speak to the account holder because there is a password verification on this account." I nearly lost my biscuit. It felt so much like the starting scene from "The Great Exotic Marigold Hotel". Anyway after struggling to explain my situation to him, he finally put me through to customer services, and there I spoke to a lady who I can only guess was from Scotland, because she too had such a strong accent, I was forced to ask her to repeat every other sentence to make sure I understood her. Turns out she needed to arrange for the bereavement team at their company to call me back. Great, well that's seventeen minutes and six seconds of my life that I'll never get back. If I'd just been put straight through to a human being, I could have managed the conversation in five minutes. (It took over 10 minutes for me to thumb through the answer machine.) After that stressful phone call, I thought I would try my fathers Oxygen provider. They still have a lot of equipment at our home that my father used to breath. This phone call took just three minutes, and they're coming by on Friday between 9:00am and 5:00pm. This means I'm literally leaving my door at 5:00pm on the dot, as I will be leaving for Airsoft. I think they will be by much sooner though. This equipment is quite specialist, and frankly it would be much better used in the home of someone who really needs it, rather than my home, where its just gathering dust. I then spent some time reading comments and writing this blog post. Thank you to both of you for your comments by the way. I really never thought anyone would ever read these posts...
Hello, The reason for me searching for a forum like this is probably very different from many of you. I am a twenty four year old masters degree student, studying accounting and financial management. Before you ask, writing is not my hobby. Actually if you asked my friends, writing is probably the last thing they would suggest as my hobby. Although for the last few days, writing for me has been a major outlet for me. The reason for this is that my father died on Sunday, 2nd September 2018. He was a major inspiration in my life, and since his passing, I have felt very empty, and lonely. Writing a diary since his death has been a very good outlet for me, and has helped me to manage my emotions. I'm sure my writing is very horrible, I wouldn't exactly be winning any awards, but that doesn't really matter to me. My grief currently drives my writing as it is a way for me to express my emotions, and release them. Although I have been keeping my diary private since I began to write it, I have begun to feel very lonely, and have struggled to gain any relief through continued writing. Instead I think my problem is that it feels as though no one will ever read these words, and it feels like a total waste of time. Please don't misunderstand me, I would like to write my diary here instead of on word in my own private little notebook, I am not writing it seeking attention from anyone, instead I am writing it with the hope that someone else might read it in the future, and maybe my experiences might help them with their own, or maybe just maybe, someone out there might read it, and help me with advice or suggestions. Anyway, there's a brief introduction to my reasons for being here. I hope that this community will be happy to have me, and I will appreciate every moment you allow me to stay and continue my writings. Here goes nothing. Kind Regards, John Sunday, 2nd September 2018 My dad just died. It doesn't feel as I expected, I always thought like my mother it would feel like a massive hole in my heart and my life. Instead there's a kind of relief, and some emptiness. Sitting with him I feel as though a heavy weight has been lifted from my shoulders, and I can finally relax. I am in mourning and crying of course, I'm not a heartless person. After 2 years of watching my dad suffer with lung cancer and after six months of nearly constant hospital visits with infections of one kind or another, it feels like at least now he is at peace and no longer needs to concern himself with struggling to breath or spit out mucus. He can just settle down to whatever comes after this life. The last few days he had gradually become more confused, and I think somehow he knew it. He would spend his waking hours either spitting out mucus or repeatedly saying things that made sense only to him. He would get upset if you told him you weren't sure what he was talking about, and that made experiencing his passing even harder. It will always stick in my mind how he would ask for the window to his small hospital room to be opened multiple times and it would take multiple reassurances that it was open before he would realise, then he'd get upset that he hadn't realised, only for the entire event to be played out again after he'd manged a few short moments of sleep. I must admit that this final trip into hospital had been the most stressful for him and myself. In the morning the consultant on duty that weekend, had read through my dad's notes and spoken to me in a side room. He'd made it abundantly clear that my dad was going to die, that there was nothing more that could be done. In my dad's last few hours, I remember sitting with him, knowing what was going to happen, eventually I couldn't hold my tears back any more. It was even more strange that at around 9pm, my father had become clear headed again. He had woken from his sleep, and looked at me noticing that I was crying. He asked what was wrong and I couldn't hold back, I told him everything, and I also told him that they expected no more than three days. I know that the doctors and nursing staff had asked me to keep it between us, but equally I knew my father hated being out of the loop on anything concerning him. My father made the conscious decision to remove his oxygen on his own, and he also asked for the Medazelam that would ultimately cause him to sleep, and eventually stop breathing. Shortly after taking the drug, he started to struggle with his breathing, mercifully he eventually fell asleep before he started struggling too much. As he did so, he began to lean towards me sitting in the chair next to his bed, I could tell it was pretty close, and I began to get upset again. I could feel the tears rolling down my face, all I could think to do was grab them the spare pillow which was meant for me, and place it under his slowly falling head. I would occasionally wipe the mucus in his mouth as it just, kept, coming. Eventually as his head finally hit the pillow I had placed for him, he stopped breathing. It was finally over. The long nights of hard breathing, chest pain, and the many sleepless nights I had endured over the last two years felt like a colossal waste of time, and anger swept over me as I willed him to take a few more hopeless breaths and wake up. It was futile, and I knew it. When I had calmed down, I pressed his calling button and informed the nurse that I believed he was dead. She explained everything to me, but in truth i could do nothing more that break down. Her words were just noise whistling over my head. I spent the next two hours waiting, and after packing my dad's belongings I began to send messages to some of my friends letting them know, hoping and praying one of them could say something that would make the situation easier to bear. Eventually I called a friend in America. There was nothing he could do or say to make things easier, but he listened, and I think that was enough. When the two hours was up, the junior doctor on call arrived to certify my father's death, after shaking him and yelling "Mr Thornbush" at his lifeless corpse a few times, he listened to his chest for a full 5 minutes, before rubbing his temples and poking at his eyes with a piece of gauze. He finally declared my father dead. I imagine he found the situation just as harrowing as I had, after all it can't be easy pronouncing a death in that fashion knowing full well that when you die some poor soul fresh out of medical school will be doing the same thing to you in about 60 years. Something I noticed that rather upset me more, I had asked the doctor about my father's organ donation, and he told me that organ donation only occurs if the death is in certain circumstances. I could not believe that his organs would be wasted. I thought of all the lives his kidneys, liver, pancreas and various other organs could have saved or improved, or even just lengthened. After the doctor left, I used the time to have a shower, and spent a last few moments with my dad's body before saying my final goodbyes and getting one last hug. It felt very different at this point, his usually very warm personality an amazing sense of humour that made hugging him so much fun was gone. It was replace with an ice cold feel. The hug felt lifeless, like hugging a dense pillow rather than the person I once knew as my father. It was at this point that I truly realised I was now on my own, and it was painful. After this hug, I grabbed what belongings I had, turned out the lights, walked to the door and took one final look back into the dark room, and the bed that held my fathers lifeless corpse. "I love you dad, I hope you know that." I said through teary eye's, and broken words. I rubbed my eye's as I closed the door, and walked away. As I exited the ward, i remember a nurse at the main desk calling out to me, "Are you okay my love?" I looked at her, and immediately welled up again. I really couldn't face it anymore, I wanted to be alone, but I couldn't face the loneliness. At the same time, I couldn't say anything. I forced a smile, and walked away. When I got home, I immediately prepared for bed, but spent a large amount of time crying uncontrollably before I finally drifted off to sleep. Monday, 3rd September 2018 I finally woke up at 8:45 and felt totally numb all over. I took some time to wash my face and decided it best to do some shopping. I think this was the right thing to do. While at the shops I saw some friends who all offered their condolences, and hugs. Which both made me cry and relax at the same time. They all also offered their help but would I really ask for it. The truth is all I want now is to either have my dad back, or just have someone spend time with me to help me sort everything out. I am just not the kind of person to ask for help. It has to be dished out to me on a platter, or I'll slowly just work through things on my own like a bull in a china shop, breaking and ruining 90% of the things I touch. I also finally received a call from the hospital Bereavement office, and they told me that donating his body to science may even be difficult. Thankfully we had prepared some of this while my father was alive. The forms he had signed before his death might actually be what means his body might be more useful than a pile of ash or food for the worms in my local cemetery. Either way, I am supposed to expect another call from the bequest office this afternoon, or tomorrow. The rest of the day sucked. I had received a call from the university of Bristol to send them my father's body bequest forms, my first attempted ended in total failure when the scan showed little more than the first third of the sheet of paper. I re-scanned the sheet and found my second attempt more successful. I am clearly having a great start considering my father was a computer programmer. You would think his son would be capable of simply scanning one side of A4. However after...