When All Is Said And Done – Part 1

(As my father died …)

Much Love (Carefully Chosen Words)

Two hours ago we spoke on the phone. He was audibly short of breath, but cheery and chatty enough – just yakking, about allotments and work and the weather.

He was tired and said we’d “speak later in the week”.

“Sleep well” he said. “Much love”.

I echoed him – “Sleep well.”

And so we signed off. I knew “much love” isn’t the sort of thing he normally says. And I couldn’t help but wonder whether “much love” might be the last words he’ll ever say to me.

And if they are?

And if they’re not, I know that what will prove to be his last words will come, all too soon, whatever they might be.

And if they are?

If they are, I will know that “much love” are two good words to remember him with.

It’s an unexpected, odd, clashing reality to overlay death with happiness. But in future I’d be able to reflect on his life as one underpinned by a quiet love and one that ended with “much love”. Love tacitly understood and, just this one time, voiced.

And that’s a happy thought. And that will be a lasting thought whether “much love” are the last words I ever hear from him or not.