Notes

"Where are you dad"

"Where are you dad!?" I call from the hallway.
We were playing hide and seek, dad was hiding. I used to love being young. having no insecurities, being free, not having to buy stuff for yourselves, no overthinking, no depression, no negativity. Being a kid was so easy. Well, for most of the time at least.
"I FOUND YOU! HAHA!" I screech with my high pitched, childish voice. I used to love hide and seek. Especially when the person who was hiding was too big to fit in the harder places to hide so they had to curl up into a ball and roll into the boxes in the corner. Those were the days.
"So you did! Well... Your turn to hide! 1..2..3.." He starts counting. I scurry down the halls and into the kitchen. I find an empty cupboard and squeeze myself into it.
"28.. 29... 30! Ready or not...HERE I COME!"
I giggle as i head the footsteps coming down the stairs and as he hums the song that most spy's use in cartoons; 'be do be do, be do, be do be do be do be do be dooooo, do do do do do do.' I hear his footsteps gaining their sound as he slowly walks into the kitchen.
"RAHHHH! FOUND YOU," he says, blasting open the door and dragging me out. (in a nice way, obviously. he'd never hurt me.) He laughs, "I saw you because you left the door partially open and that cupboard door is never open!" I laugh with him.

Oh how times change.

A few years pas. We still play hide and seek, but as we have both grown our places are getting more squashed and hard to find. Before, I could fit in a cupboard, now i can only just about fit in my ow wardrobe. Thats only because I have a lot of clothing and shoes.
"You always go in that blooming wardrobe, don't you? I mean, I'm not mad, I just don't know why you always go in there..." He laughs.
"Only place i can fit into!" I say with a scoff. I'm sure there was another place that I could find, I'm just not sure where. Over time, I notice dad had been getting breathless every time he went up the stairs. I didn't think much of it, I just thought maybe he had a bit of a cold.
But oh, how I was wrong. Next thing 7 year old me saw as soon as I came home from school was my dad on the floor, collapsed in a ball, blue. I only remember faintly what I saw; I was too scared and confused as to why mum was crying down the phone and saying "PLEASE COME QUICK HES DYING" and telling them our address. I thought mum told me never to share my address with strangers unless there was an emergency. Plus, I didn't know what death was at the age of 7, but I knew it was something out of the usual. Mum or dad didn't really explain to me, all they told me was that you go somewhere peaceful and you wont suffer anymore.
Days passed. I remember having dad back home one day, only faintly though. Mum looked relieved but also petrified. I don't know what I felt or what I was suppose to feel. I guess I felt happy that he was back at home after being in that big building with a machine covering his mouth and nose? That wasn't nice to see. I missed his smile.

Anyway, lets skip forward a couple of years. 2019. The year of complete disaster. Well, what's better than starting a year stuck in your house and not having a single window or door open because of some stupid virus that cant decide whether its going to screw up our lives or make it better? Answer to that is: everything and anything. I was a courageous 9 year old. I didn't like being at home all the time and staying inside. I wanted to swim rivers and climb trees, whilst I still could. But, obviously, the world of viruses declined that beautiful offer and said:
"Stay in your houses and do not leave unless of emergency. Wear masks. Stay 2 meters apart. Sanitize your hands." This carried on for 2-3 years. My freedom was taken away from me. I couldn't leave the house, no matter the circumstance. My face was rubbed raw with the stupid masks we had to wear 24/7. Online school was rubbish too. COVID-19, they called it. Or coronavirus, but thats the longer version of the name. It ruined my social skills, my mental skills and my physical skills. My mental health was fine up until 2019. I was a happy little kid that was loved by everyone and never gave a shit about anything negative and always had a solution is something did come up that wasn't to her liking. If only I had kept that part of me, maybe I would've got somewhere.

Lets skip to 2021-22. Places started to open up again. The virus died down a bit. We ended up with some kind of freedom? Well, I didn't, but others did. I still had to isolate myself until the virus had died down a bit more. Which was understandable, I didn't want my dad to get any sicker than what he already was.
Even my whole family isolating ourselves just wasn't enough.
He got sick with COVID-19 in July of 2022. Long story short. he ended up having to use oxygen machines and cylinders to help him breathe. It broke me in all ways possible to see my dad say downstairs all day, giving up his work and motorbikes, having to stop going out on his morning walks every morning and not being able to socialize with anyone except for the pets, mum, me and the four walls around him. My mum was heartbroken to see her lover of 30 years not be able to do anything anymore. Although, my dad was determined to get up and help around the house whilst we were back at work and school after covid died down. But, mum used to get the odd call from the reception from where she worked, "Vic needs you, apparently its urgent." I remember having Chazza, of my my friends come up to me and say "you're coming home with me, your dad isnt well." I could have ran back home, even if it took me an hour, but chazza stopped me. I broke in that very moment. I just wanted my old dad back.

Lets speed through to November 2022. Good god, was that a shit month. The oxygen that used to be up at 5 was not up at 10-15, and if it went anywhere above 15 it would be a danger to the house. I remember faintly hearing my dad say to my mum whilst i was in the other room,
"I can't do this for much longer if I'm being brutally honest. I just cant. WE cant." That sentence broke me like a thin glass being thrown against against a brick wall. But, I had to be dads little soldier. So, I stayed strong for him. And for mum, obviously, her poor soul. I knew from that day on that time was running out.
And for once, I was right. Time was running out, and rapidly. More hospital visits occurred, prescriptions were changed ALL the time, blood tests were taken, phone calls were made, all of it.

Until January of 2023.

"There's a 99.9% change I ain't going nowhere overnight, so dont go shitting yourself thinking 'oh no, he's going to hospital' because I'm not," he says. I guess you could say that wasn't the case. 4am in the morning: 'ding dong'. "shit," I said. I run out of bed, onto the landing with my teddy in hand. I find my mum standing in the doorway of her and dads bedroom.

"What's happened? Is everything okay? What's wrong?" I asked. My mum turns to me with tears in her eyes. "It's gonna be okay, please don't worry." She moves out the was of the doorway and put her hand on my shoulder.
I freeze. A chill runs down my back and my heart drowns into my stomach. Dad is sat on the edge of the bed with 3 paramedics. They turn to me as a say, "No. No you're joking."

My insides were burning out of my skin. I feel the ball in my throat rise and my heart pumping through my chest. My eyes well up. "He's going to be okay sweetheart," says one of the paramedics. "He just needs a bit of looking after because he is struggling at the moment, thats all." After half an hour of trying to get him to stand up and walk 3 steps, they wheel him off. Thats all I really remember from that day. I'm sure there's shit loads more, but I just can't remember what happened. The only other thing I do remember thinking is...
'Will he ever come back home? Is this his last time in this house he's owned for 26 years? What if we never see him again? What if he doesn't ever come back?'

He was gone.
The days get longer, and longer, and longer. Thank god for my amazing boyfriend and my mates and my mum, or I don't think I would have made it through them last 3 days. I was so drained and so frustrated and so unsure. I didnt know what to expect. Well, I kind of had an idea with the way mum looked at my dad every time we visited him. It was that look you give people as if you want to say "please, stop suffering and just let go. There's nothing going to stop you. We'd rather have you in a place where suffering isn't such a thing than in this cruel world and in agony."

There was one last night left. I just knew it. Although, I was told that I couldn't visit dad because it was apparently too upsetting for someone like me and my age. One night, I stayed up until 5:20am. on call with my amazing boyfriend and my good friend Anneliesse. How they managed to stay with me, I shall never know, but I am forever grateful that they did. I eventually said "fuck it, I'm going to bed." That night my mum had stayed with my dad all throughout the night, just holding his hand whilst he rested.

She knew. She knew exactly what was coming. So, she sat there, his hand in hers, and just waited. Patiently. She waited for 8 1/2 hours. 5:30am struck. The ventilator went silent. The line was straight. His hand started to turn cold. She looked at him.


That morning, I was woken up by a knock at my bedroom door. My mum. Her eyes red and her lips quivering. Shit.
"I'm sorry darling. He just couldn't suffer anymore."
That moment felt unreal. I froze. The memories flooded back to me. The hide and seek we used to play. The football games. The long night talks. The fucking about in the street. The motorbike rides. Everything. I sat there in silence. It felt like the whole world went quiet. My ears were ringing. My mum broke to my bed and cried. I held her. Not a single emotion hit my face. I sat there, blankly. No emotion, no feelings.

I haven't felt the same since. I still feel that I haven't processed the emotions that I should have. I haven't grieved the way a 12 year old should do. I just kind of sit there, numb. Every day I come home from school, the house is cold and empty. Every time I go into my parents room, its cold and empty. Every time I go into the living room, its cold and empty. The silence is weird, too. The oxygen machines used to make so much noise that I seem to have forgotten what pure silence is. It's empty. I'm empty.
Although sometimes I still think to myself...


"Where are you dad?"