Day 1,124
Dad
After a stressful few days of more tests and back-and-forth between doctors, we finally got the go-ahead for Tom’s operation, and it was booked for Wednesday 17 July. We were both very anxious, but relieved at the same time. We had reserved our Airbnb for a further month to allow Tom to fully recover, cycle touring was out for around 50 days, and so was flying. Sunday morning dawned and a devastating message from England resulted in a complete change of plans.
Tom's father Brian had been taken into hospital and sadly we were told this was the end, he wasn't going to recover. The shock was immense, Brian was the perennial ‘comeback-kid’. Despite many years of ill health he always found the strength to carry on.
Our plans for a lazy day with friends Ferdi and Viki changed in a flash to action stations. Ferdi and Viki were a tower of strength, somehow finding two bike boxes, helping us pack the bikes and kit. They turned up with breakfast, went out later and bought us lunch, helped Tom book our flights, then found us a taxi to the airport. All within just a few hours. We left them with a pile of unwanted kit and an apartment in disarray, but we knew they would sort it.
We were greeted at Heathrow by my sister Carly and sister-in-law Mel, driven in torrential rain to Tom’s parents home in Northampton. Barely 24 hours after receiving this devastating news we were back.
The next few days were full of sadness but also so much love. Our wonderful NHS provided us with a ‘Swan’ room. This is a private room, a calm and quiet place for us to sit with Brian. No restrictions on visiting hours, so we could be beside him 24 hours a day. The hospital staff popped in with endless cups of tea and support. We knew we were so lucky to have this, it helped make a time of such sadness and pain easier to bear. Two days after we arrived home, Brian died. Sue, his wife of 62 years, lost the love of her life, Tom and his brother Jim, lost a much beloved father, and Sam and Jim their Grandad. Brian was a teacher, an artist, a marathon runner, and a tower of strength to many.
We are all going to miss you Brian, rest in peace. x
Here is a poem Tom wrote for the funeral:
My father’s hands
Those big strong hands
That cradled me for years before I remember
That pushed me along
riding my bike for the first time
Those big strong hands
Mixing mortar, laying bricks, building wonders
That changed the car oil,
the warm fluid flowing over mine
Those big strong hands
Trying to hold me down as an unruly teen
That painted Pokemon and jungles
in the grandchildrens’ bedrooms
Those big strong hands
Clasped sweaty to mine at Nottingham marathon
That proudly waved me goodbye
as I cycled off again
Those big strong hands
Now swollen and hurting you so much
Ready for a rest,
as I held them for the last time
Those
big
strong
hands.
