its been 2 years in june, but i cant come to terms with my dads death.
he was a fun going chap without a bad bone in his body, he didnt understand my mental health but he tried.
used to see him every day, he would pop down for a cup of tea, untill covid.
when covid started to run rampant he was worried about catching it, he went to the doctor and was first diagnosed with high blood preassure and they had some tests done, turned out the results showed a shadow on his kidney.
the doctor mentioned the c word. that was all dad heard, from that day on it was like he gave up.
my wife and myself would take him to his hospital appointments, watching him get thinner and weaker each time we saw him, it was so hard to take him to an appointment for him to tell the nurse that he had messed himself.
the last time a saw my dad saw on the 11th june 2020, when i was called up to my parents house as he had fallen out of bed, he pleaded with me to help him up, but i thought i knew best and rang the ambulance, while all the time he was screaming at me to pick him up.
i will never forget the hurt and pain on his face , if i could go back and do it again i would of lifted him back into his bed.
well that was the last day i saw my dad alive, he died in the early morning of the 12th june 2020.
i was called up to his house on that morning and was asked to do cpr on him by the 999 operator but it was no point he was cold and stiff.

as im the oldest i have had to be strong for my brothers and sisters.

but like i said that was 2 years ago, i still blame myself for not lifting him, my dad died thinking i never cared enough to help him when he needed me, till this day ive not been able to cry, because im not worthy of forgivness .
but if i had a second chance i would do it so different.