mostly david ephgrave

The other day, I dreamt about my dad, who passed away a little over two years ago. These dreams don't happen too often, but when they do, it can be difficult. It wasn't until I woke up that I remembered he was gone. In it, I'd bumped into him in a shop like Wilkinson, where he was browsing with a friend. I was in a bit of a hurry so it was more of a quick hello than anything. I may even have been a little brusque because I needed to get away. It was as I'd left the shop that I remembered there was something important I needed to tell him, but on turning back, I found I could barely lift my legs. The more I tried, the less I moved. I knew if I didn't hurry, he'd be gone, but it made no difference. It was like swimming against the tide. When I woke up, sadness hit me. The mundanity of the situation in the dream was bittersweet. I felt guilty for being irritable even though it wasn't real. It's not hard to decipher the meaning of my jelly legs. The prison o...

Today, I received word that my dad's gravestone has been laid, along with a photograph to prove it (not that I was in any doubt). It's these things you can be a little unsure how you'll react to; it was like seeing his coffin at the funeral or carrying his ashes casket at the burial. There's a sense of finality and actuality that can be a little unsettling if don't prepare yourself for it. But any time I worry, I remind myself that it's just my dad and I love him, and I needn't be afraid, because there'll never be a reason to be frightened when he's nearby, ever. When the paramedic asked if I wanted to see him when I arrived minutes after he'd died, I faltered for a moment. But I quickly mentally corrected myself, because I knew I had a responsibility to him as my dad, and because I knew he'd need me. He told me more than once towards the end that I made him less afraid when I was there, so I was glad there was a way I could acti...

Everything has been in such a state of flux since my dad died that I try my best to ground myself in the truth. There's nothing much more unsettling than having reality questioned when that's an oxymoron at heart. While it's easier to accept a person holds a different opinion to you, to be an opinion, it has to be a concept you can debate, and not an undeniable event. Having to defend whether a tangible thing happened moves the goalposts, as you're then dealing with a person who's happy to shift the unshiftable to make their point, which means they'll use lies as evidence of their version of the truth. Half of the problem I've had with a person lately is due to that paradox. While it shouldn't be this easy, blank denial is almost an impervious argument, as you can't get anywhere near to the point. And if someone is prepared to say black is white repeatedly, it's not a conversation; it's a stonewalling exercise. But if you know so...

Today, in a fit of usefulness, I assembled a hospital table for my dad. It was pleasing to be able to put something together that would help make his life a little easier.  The past few weeks I've purchased more than my fair share of items from Amazon Prime, in the hope of improving his current situation, with this being perhaps the most useful of all. His mobility's very restricted at the moment (so much so, we've had a hospital bed put in in his front room) so anything we can do to enable him to have some level of freedom without being hemmed in is a bonus. Keeping on top of things has been a challenge. My dad isn't one for thinking ahead at the moment, so my mum and I have been putting out a lot of metaphorical fires along the way, but slowly - gradually - we're establishing control. Everything has centred around making him as safe as possible; a carer visits four times a day, which reassures us, although this has facilitated a lack of improvement to an exten...