My dad was a vicar. He was a hugely dignified man. But I remember him saying to me, "I'm dying".
I think, even he, in that moment, was frightened.
I'm a nurse, I've seen many, many different iterations of death. Violent, frenzied, unexpected, peaceful. And dealt with raw grief. I've laid out hundreds of bodies in 40 years of practice.
But nothing, nothing, prepares one for the loss of a parent ( where it has been a good, nurturing relationship ).
I watched my unresponsive father for 2 days; but knew the instant he died. Nothing to do with having witnessed death before. His soul simply vacated his living body.
I miss him daily, acutely, sometimes. He died in 2011.
I wrote and spoke the eulogy. To anyone going through this, I would say it was a healing and wonderful privilege to be able to do it and to do it if you can.
He had his funeral in the church I grew up in. I treated it as my playground and suddenly I was back there, with his coffin in front of me, where, as a child I was there whilst he was in the vestry and I was stealing the communion wafers.
Thoughts to AC and to everyone else in this place.