The day my Daddy died ...

This morning, my husband and I set off to Stourbridge to see my Dad whose health had been rapidly declining. We drove via South Ken to pick up my Uncle who lives in Marylebone. I got a quick out-of-the-car-window blip of the V&A; which is my favourite museum in London. As I blipped it I thought of my Dad who wouldn't have liked it, but would have trailed after my Mum who adores it!

When we got to Stourbridge, Dad was really not in a good way. He was very agitated and he could barely talk (only a whisper). He seemed to know we were there, but he seemed very confused and seemed to stare into the middle distance.

After a couple of hours at my parents house, it was clear my Dad was trying to remain as dignified as he could and wouldn't let on to any of us he needed us to go so he could be in peace. Such a gentleman. As I left I kissed him and told him I loved him. He whispered back that he loved me too. It was the last thing he said to me.

We left and headed back to London. Just as we arrived back to Wandsworth, my phone rang: It was my brother telling me things had spiralled quickly. I rang Mum and the district nurse was there who had told us to get up to Stourbridge. He had been given a mild sedadative to calm him down, but nothing else. My Mum held his hand, and she said he gave two big sighs and that was it - he was gone. Dignified and a gentleman to the end, holding the hand of the lady he loved.

I was still in London and received the call. I don't know if I can even remember what Mum said or how I actually felt at that moment. It was all a blur.

My husband nobly drove me back up to Stourbridge so I could be with my Mum and brother. The nurses had laid him out for us to say our final goodbyes. I'll never forgot the cold of his skin as I kissed him for the last time, or watching the hearse drive away - I couldnt help but wave and say 'bye Dad' - I couldn't not acknowledge him leaving our home forever.

What a day. A day that changed my life forever.