Sue

My Father’s love ... a true story (Part 1)

Dad was very poorly with severe emphysema (lung disease) and it was just before he went into hospital for the final time, if I remember right, ten years ago.

Mum and dad lived in a flat in sheltered accommodation and I went most days to see them, and was expected. As I walked in, I tried hard not to catch dad’s gaze as he asked me if I was all right, because I wasn’t. I’d had num-in-law problems and inside was in bits so I quickly changed the subject.

It only took a few minutes before my eyes caught dad’s. I knew he knew, he always did; no words, just a look, it was as if he could see my soul. My tears flowed, and without a word he took my hand and tried to pull me onto his knee.

I resisted, mainly out of kindness to him! I told him I was too big, too heavy, after all, I reasoned, he was 77 and I was 45. He was poorly, only 6 stone wet through and me well, a little heavier! As a little girl I had always loved being on his knee.

He wouldn’t take no for an answer – he was like that, my dad. He wanted to be there for me.

I sat gingerly down, taking most of my weight, as he gave me a hug and I cried on his shoulder … suddenly I was a child again in my Father’s arms. I could have stayed like that for as long as I wanted, as I knew dad would have ignored the pain he was in, but after only a moment or two, I told him I was hurting him and stood up.