So this Tuesday just gone was actually a year since my Dad was found passed away in his bed. We (my sister Vicky and I) believe he’d been there for the best part of a week (since the night of Tuesday 10th January, which was the same day that I last saw & spoke to him) but the accommodation trust with which he stayed, basically lied through their teeth to us and to the police saying that he collected his weekly provisions (bread, milk, sugar, etc) on Friday 13th January, and also stated that staff saw him out and about on the Saturday too.
The reason for disbelief comes from what we were told by coroners who were trying very hard to make him presentable for us to have an open coffin. They tried and tried, but in the end they said they’d done all they could but strongly recommended a closed coffin as the decomposition was already well under way. Riggor Mortis had already been and gone.
The reason the accommodation trust lied about this is because in their room agreement, the tenant agrees that if not seen for 48 hours or more, a housing officer may enter the room without prior notice to check on them. They obviously failed to fulfil their part of this term in the agreement, therefore would be guilty of neglect bearing in mind this accommodation trust is full with mostly people who are, or have been, addicted to alcohol and/or drugs.
Dad was an alcoholic. He knew it and openly admitted it, asked for help, but made excuses not to take it when offered.
The final conclusive cause of death was reported several MONTHS after his discovery. We believe this delay was due to the decomposition of the organs, versus the conflicting statement from the accommodation trust. Steatosis of the liver. A build-up of fatty deposits in the liver that blocked the liver. This comes with little or no symptoms at all.
In the past year, since the cremation at The Garden of England crematorium in Bobbing, Kent on Saturday 4th February, I have not cried. There have been times when I’ve been watching a film or TV programme, or even watching a video on YouTube that I have welled-up but not really opened up, even though deep down I probably know that I still need to, but I keep just wiping the tears away, have a vape (to hide the possibility of my bottom lip popping out just like his did), and just carry on reading or watching whatever it was.
Last night I woke from what I remember as a brief dream, where I was either at work or in a social club (I either can’t remember, or just didn’t recognise the place), when I broke the news of his passing to whomever it was I was talking to, and burst out crying. In my dream I remember feeling a sense of relief, that I was letting the tears flow. Then I woke up – my eyes were dry.
I think the time will come soon when I can let it all out. I just don’t know what’s stopping me to be honest. I guess it’s probably just a “man” thing? But I can’t even let it out when I’m home alone so I’m still stumped.
I’ve definitely inherited his emotional sensitivity, which I am not ashamed of, but also have a sense of humiliation that he seemed to lack when he welled up and popped out his bottom lip whilst watching films like The Secret Garden when he took us to the cinema on one particular occasion nearly 25 years ago.