They say what will be will be and today I can report that what will be has been and is done; my father died at 5.03 am on Sunday the 14th December 2019, he was 79 years old. He passed away in comfort and in as peacefull a way as anyone could hope for. My own feelings have passed between hope and dispair over the past two weeks but now, as well as the saddness of loss, I feel relief. He would not want to continue in a state where he couldnt talk or walk, and maybe not eat which is what we were facing if he had fought through the pneumonia. We will have a service in the coming days and then return him to Scotland where he always was saying he wanted to go.
The nurses at avdelning 1 were wonderful to us and that will never be forgotten and I will be donating a view of Tullportsgatan to them as a token of gratitude. This may be unorthodox and could even pose a problem for them because as I understand it the art in the hospitals is a tightly controlled national process but I get the sense also that the giving of gifts is unusual. Having remarked on the wonderful facilities to numerous people over the past couple of weeks I have been somewhat suprised by the responses which are often along the lines of 'we pay high taxes so this is what we expect'. Well fair enough I suppose but that of course does not apply to our family so while the proper show of gratitude might be to go out and get a job and pay the taxes, we can only offer an oil.
You know these drawings of father...would I have done them had I known he was really going to die? Perhaps not. We can only say that we drew them with hope, today's work however is in rememberance. We once again took to the lane past the uddeboö turn and parked at the far end for a view back down the lane. As usual there was not much time so decided to take a view more or less at the point where the car was parked and you know I rather enjoyed that restriction but there was still many many options and in the end I stumped for the lane in refference to my father who as a boy in Scotland used to cycle far and wide through he countryside. He told me his favorite thing to do was pick a spot on the horizon and head for it, not knowing what was there or even if was accessable.
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We slashed it on: a patchwork of ploughed fields either side of the lane and which itself is squeezed between two drainage ditches which as usual produce a wealth of different growth. Not really a time for thinking about the process but just to say that we learned a little when the sun came out and we went in with the lemon and we perhaps just stopped ourselves just short of a spoiling due to a creeping similarity in the marks and that said I shall pause here and now reflect a little upon the events of recent days and think a little on what is to come.
A handshake,