A Death in the Family






Just after Easter 1978, my father spent a week in hospital undergoing tests which 
revealed that he had cancer of the stomach and liver.  It was a terrible blow to us all to 
realise that even an operation was futile.  But Dad accepted his fate courageously, 
almost defiantly referring to his cancer as casually as people talk about their arthritis.

Though almost seventy years old, Dad had kept active, carrying himself in the upright 
fashion of his RSM training.  Accompanied by Mum, he visited us every Friday doing 
thoughtful little favours in my kitchen, such as setting the machine going for my week's 
washing.  He would often peel all my vegetables for the weekend, and when he did he 
always made the touching gesture of walking through to pop a piece of raw carrot into 
my mouth!

He would chat about his own wine-making, long before I was interested in taking it up 
myself.

Dad was gentle and understanding with Jack.  At lunch times, he would cut up Jack's 
food, before tucking a serviette under his chin.  Dad had not shown real approval of our 
marriage at the start, too concerned about its possible failure and the subsequent hurt 
for us.  But seeing us established in our own flat, he obviously felt secure about the 
situation.  He could not bring himself to say as much to our faces, but I was aware that 
he spoke proudly of us to others.

Dad became very weak during the last fortnight of his life, and when he was confined to 
bed the family watched by him constantly.  During the final days I managed to visit dad 
several times, when Trevor or my brothers were able to carry me upstairs to the first-
floor flat.  Jack came with me on one occasion.  As we watched his tired, grey face, my 
thoughts could not help but wonder back almost twenty-two years to the day when Dad 
had cycled to Dereham with the news of Gerard's birth.  Now, Gerard was helping Mum 
to tend Dad's needs to the end.

Dad died on Friday, May 12th, at home, as was his wish and with the family in 
attendance.

Gerard aptly summed it up later when he said: "Dad taught us how to live – and he 
taught us how to die."