Life goes on

It seems unbelievable, but he has really has gone now. I know this for sure because we said goodbye last week to an empty but still-warm body, later saw a simple coffin put in a deep hole at Dean Cemetery, and shovelled or threw earth on it to make it real. I'm still missing him badly, but know that as time goes on it will get easier. We had some lovely and important chats before the end, and all is good and whole.

He probably never heard this song, but it's the one I play for him. Just like the Hebrew prayers sung in a beautiful tenor voice by Rabbi Mark, I don't understand the words but find them beautiful nonetheless. He'd be pissed off if he knew I was sad.

Hospice

It's a lovely place with well-kempt gardens, a huge conservatory and flat-screen TVs should you want. They give you a butterfly (sub-cutaneous needle) through which to administer titrated opiates of long or short acting duration, as required. Thanks to the palliative team, Dad was both all there cognitively and in much less pain when I visited today.

He's coaching one of his wonderful nurses, Carmen, in Italiano. Her husband is currently working in Parma, and she's teaching herself Italian. 'No charge' he said tonight, after promoting a language tutorial by introducing me and then discussing his drug administration with Carmen in Italian.