Hello dear friends,
When I signed off here three months ago, I hoped to return in September with good news about my memoir writing progress, but in early July I got a call from my uncle telling me my dad had been taken from prison to hospital. Nothing has been the same since.
There was talk of pneumonia. Dad and I had last spoken in May, he had sent a couple of cards that month sending his love, as always, and to let me know that he was waiting to hear news of test results from the hospital. When I asked him how he was feeling and he replied, ‘Oh, not so bad…’ I knew, for him, that meant not so good, but I hoped he would soon be in touch with good news.
That was the last time I heard from him.
Me and Dad – a rare day out to Kingston Lacy, Dorset
(c) Sherri Matthews
Father’s Day came and went, I sent cards, but heard nothing and I was getting worried. I didn’t know then that Dad’s health had deteriorated rapidly and he was seriously ill. The prison didn’t have my number; if my uncle hadn’t called me, my brother and I would never have known.
I got authority from the prison to visit dad first thing the next day. When I walked into the ward, I saw two prison guards dressed in black sitting next to a bed with an elderly man lying half propped up on it, but I didn’t recognise him. I think it was then that I went into shock.
Every movement, every word, everything that happened after that will be forever engraved on my mind.
I turned to the nurse and said, ‘That’s not my dad…’ All I could see was the huge tumour on the side of his neck and I couldn’t reconcile that this was the same man I had spoken to several weeks before, waiting for a hospital appointment.
And then he turned his head towards me, and opened his eyes and I knew him then and I ran over to him, and there he was, my darling dad. All I could do was wail and weep and take hold of his hands and reach my arms around his bony shoulders and kiss his head and stroke his hair and tell him a thousand million times how much I loved him through the mess of tears falling all over him. I could not contain my emotions, I thought I was losing him there and then.
The guards were shocked – ‘We’ll give you some privacy, so sorry…’ and moved to a seating area across the room, not knowing what to say.
The nurse looked shocked too. ‘Nobody told you?’ she questioned, her eyes as wide as mine must have been wild.
‘No, nobody told me…I didn’t know…’ I sobbed.
I had expected to find my dad unwell, I knew his health was poor, but finding him dying from late stage cancer with no warning knocked me into a world of pain and grief so suddenly, that I couldn’t think straight.
‘I’ll get a doctor,’ she mumbled as she rushed out of the room.
Thank God for that Wednesday afternoon. They were the last hours I had with Dad, when he was still able to talk to me, albeit it with difficulty. When I told him I wasn’t going anywhere, he gripped my hand and nodded. I knew then I would be with him to the end.
The nurse suggested I help him drink from a straw and as I did so, I smiled at him and said, as our little joke, ‘Oh Dad, what have you done now?’ He looked up at me and raised his grey, wispy eyebrows, the twinkle in his smiling, naughty-boy eyes and the small shrug of his shoulders telling me what he always said when things didn’t go to plan…
‘It is what it is.’
And so it was. Five days I had with my dad. Five days to see him through to his last, gentle breath, as I held his hand and kissed him goodbye and breathed in the scent of his hair and head and stroked his still handsome face, breathing in his essence one last time, the essence of home and family and of the happy childhood my dad gave to me and my brother, and all the crazy adventures that followed.
(c) Sherri Matthews
My favourite photograph of my dad with me and my brother, 1960s, Surrey, England
And always, always, the love. Nothing ever took away our love.
Dad died surrounded by the love of his family, as peaceful and as gentle as I could have ever dared hope for. His funeral took place on a beautiful, summer’s day, the kind he would have loved, the day before what would have been his 84th birthday.
I asked the Chaplain from the prison to officiate. He had walked around the gardens, planted and tended by the inmates, with Dad many times. A private man, the Chaplain told me, but one who loved the world around him, who loved to listen to the birds singing and admire the flowers and shrubs and trees that grew just outside his prison cell.
I visited the prison to meet with the Chaplain and the Governor after Dad died and it was good to see Dad’s last earthly home, a place where he was cared for, where friends looked after him. Dad always had a home with me and my brother, if he had wanted it, if it had been possible, but prison was the only home Dad knew.
Yet, at the end of his life, Dad was granted Compassionate Release, meaning he died a free man. He would have got a big kick out of that news.
But the hardest moment in that day was taking away Dad’s worldly possessions contained in three small, zip-up sports bags. I still can’t bear to go through them…
For a long time I wasn’t able to focus or do much of anything; I pulled away from writing and all social media. I spent a lot of time with my family over the summer, taking time away to recover, enjoy the outdoors, breathe in the fresh air.
I adored my dad, you see, and always will.
Dad’s favourite bird was the robin, my Sweet Robin of course, shared here many times. Camping in the beautiful Dorset countryside this summer a few short weeks after Dad died, a young robin appeared from beneath the hedgerow on the path in front of us. He stopped for a minute or two, then hopped off ahead, as if leading the way, and then stopped again.
Here is the video clip, very short, of what happened next. We wondered if the robin was alright, but as soon as it heard other people coming, it flew up into a tree above, out of sight. That robin was fine, and he helped heal my grieving heart as I caressed his softness and sweetness, as he allowed me to that beautiful summer’s afternoon.
Life carries on, but grief doesn’t disappear overnight. Thank you so much for allowing me to share these personal stories about my dad. I have so much more I want to write about him, about our life together, and I will, in time. But for now, I hope to return here more often, although I am back to my memoir, back to where I left off before that fateful call in July, so I will do the best I can.
I have missed you all, and I will see you again very soon.
Love Sherri xxx
A View From My Summerhouse 
So sorry for your loss Sherri – an absolutely beautiful but heartbreaking post…
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Thank you Suzie…I think of my dad all the time…
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oh Sherri that made me cry again you write so beautifully and movingly xxx
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Ahh, my friend…I cried writing it… xxx
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Oh, Sherri, I’m so sorry about the loss of your dad.
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Thank you Mary…
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Dear Sherri,
I had missed you but this as a shock. I am so terribly sorry for your loss. I cried as I read this. It was and is heartbreaking. There is nothing I can really say to help. I know and understand your pain. I also remember sharing with you icky love of robins – I am so pleased you were blessed by the company of one whilst you wer grieving. I hope their presence continues to help you to heal.
Condolences and much love to you and your family. Blessings. Susan x
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Thank you so much for your lovely message dear Susan, which helps greatly. I do remember so well sharing our love of robins. A robin hopped out on the path the day I went to the prison, another hot, summer’s day, and again, most incredibly, when my brother and I sat at our kitchen table planning Dad’s Order of Service, it started to rain. I went over to close the kitchen door, and there, on the trellis only a couple of feet away, perched a robin. In all the almost 9 years living in the same house, I’ve only seen ‘my’ robin at the bottom of the garden or at the feeder in the winter/early spring and late autumn but never in July and never on that trellis. And when I called my brother over, it stayed, cocked its head a couple of times as if it was listening before it flew away. We couldn’t believe it. Below Dad’s photo on the front of the Order is a picture of a robin 🙂 Much love & blessings to you xxx
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Oh, Sherri, my heart goes out to you and your family. This is a very moving post and I can feel your love for your father from here. Take care.
Sarah x
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Thank you so much Sarah… xxx
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Oh Sher, I couldn’t stop crying while I read the love and pain in your words and was brought back in memory to the death of my own beloved dad. I remember the Robin story you told me when your dad passed. Truly it was a sign.
I’m happy to see you back here in the blogosphere, if only to share your heart.
Love and hugs to you my sweet friend. xoxox ❤ ❤
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Oh Deb, here’s your comment…and I’m crying again, for us both. I’m blown away by the love and care and support here. I hesitated as to what to share about my dad, there is so much more I want to say, but I wrote as the words poured out, realising just how raw the pain and grief still is, in these early days. Yet, I also take strength from the peace and love surrounding my dad at the end. Every time I watch the robin video I am comforted, his visitation was truly a sign. I will share another ‘encounter’ of a different kind I experienced in Italy when I write about our trip there, post pics and get back on track here. Thank you so much for being there…being here…my sweet friend, I’m feeling the love and your hugs… 🙂 ❤ xoxo
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Thanks for fishing me out Sher. And yes, your poured your heart out raw, just like any great memoir writer would do. I know just by your posts how riveting your memoir will be once finished. No holding back, the truth as we lived and felt it. You can share as much as your heart can bear. And I can’t wait to hear about your Italy adventures. xoxox ❤ ❤
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Thank you so much Deb… ❤ ⭐ xoxox
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xoxo 🙂 ❤
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Sher, I just wrote you a long heartfelt comment. It disappeared, most likely to your spam, please check your spam and let me know if it’s there. This comment will go through because I’m signing in from FB grrr this spam!
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Got it,as above, thanks Deb Hope your spam problems gets sorted, as I said on FB, I’ve had it happen three times, it’s a royal pain in the…you know the rest. Has Akismet been able to help you? xoxo
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Dearest Sherri, I love both those picture of you and your Dad. We have talked long and hard about your deep grief over losing him and all of your fond memories of him. I think you’re being very brave and strong, as I know how much he meant to you. Just think how proud he would have been of you, if he’d lived to see you publish your memoir. He’d say, “There, my clever Sherri. I knew you could do it!” So get working, girl. I’m cheering you on, all of the way there. Love and hugs, Sarah xxxxxxx
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You are right dearest Sarah, I do believe that is what my dad would say and although he won’t be here to see that day, I am so glad that I was able to share the beginnings of my writing career with him, and of course my first ever piece published in Prima was all about him, with his blessing, his priceless gift to me. Thank you so much for always cheering me on and your support, love and hugs…sending the very same back to you… ❤ xxxx
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Likewise, thank you for always cheering me on and for all your support, Sherri, my dear friend xxxxxxxx
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This is a most beautiful tribute to a man much loved. Just because a person does foolish things doesn’t lessen their need to love and be loved. You were walking in Grace with the robin. A messenger to let you know all is well. I’ve dried my tears twice or more. Your memoir, written with this kind of love will be a best seller. Your dad will be proud. You have my heartfelt condolences. Giant squishy hugs. Marlene
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Dear Marlene, thank you so much for your lovely comment, really does mean so much to me. Grace has surrounded me, most certainly. I have missed you, and I hope all is well with you. I will visit you as soon as I can, but meanwhile, I shall remain comforted by your wonderfully giant squishy hugs… ❤
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Oh my dearest Sherri, my heart just breaks reading this blog post. You have me tearing up at my desk as I am reading. My love goes out to you and your family all the way from Michigan. One post that always stays with me is the story about how your father tamed the frightened fox cub. A feat only someone with patience and persistence could achieve. My thoughts are with you as you continue to grieve. Your words are so true, grief doesn’t disappear overnight. I hope that you can find some release in the world of writing and sharing some of your memories.
Much love, Heather xoxo
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Oh Heather, I am so glad I shared the story of my dad and the fox cub when I did. I hesitated, as I do want to put together and publish my writings about my dad after my memoir (although I do write about my dad in my memoir too), but I felt so strongly to share that particular fox story when I did. Little did I know that when I did so, Dad was so ill… I wrote about Dad not being able to save himself, yet, at the end of his life, I believe he found his salvation. Thank you so much dearest Heather for sharing your moving thoughts about my dad, and for your kind, caring message which brings me great comfort. Much love to you too my friend ❤
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Isn’t it amazing the way our God speaks to us, Sherri? That beautiful little Robin and its perfect timing to let you know your father is in a better place. He knows how much you loved him. I’m thankful you had those last days together. DFD and I both share in your grief and send our love. We both know your memoir will be a lovely tribute to your father…so, hurry up and finish it! Love you, girl! xoxo
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Dear JillyB, you are so right about that! That little robin was God’s gift, in perfect timing, I truly believe. Such a peaceful, blessed moment that I can not think about it even now without being moved to tears of gratitude. Thank you so much my friend, you and DFD, for your wonderful support and comforting messages. Much love to you both…and re the memoir, I’m working on it, the floodgates have re-opened, so you can crack that whip again! ❤ xoxo
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Oh Sherri I am brought to tears by this wonderful post. I am deeply sorry for your loss. having lost my dad, whom I adored too, I know how much pain you are in. The few intimate moments with the robin is a wonderful sign from your dad that he is near you and at peace I think.
It is so good to see your sensitive writings again. I have not been posting or reading much online for a while so it is interesting that I should choose today to rediscover the joy of reading my favourite blogs! And yours is certainly up the top of that list!
Peace and Love to you and yours x
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It is so lovely to hear from you again dear Brenda, thank you so much for your beautiful message about my dad and I believe the very same about my encounter with the robin. I’m glad to know you’re back online, I will catch up with you as soon as I can…I’m honoured my blog is on your fave list…likewise! Take care Brenda, sending peace and love back to you… xxx
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Sherri, I cried all the way through your post. I lost my dad in 1980, he was 80 years old, but I was unable to be with him. Our five year old daughter was in the hospital under going a serious surgery and I couldn’t leave her. In 2006, my mom also passed away at age 86 and I was the only one of my surviving siblings that stayed with her until the very end. I don’t know for sure if she knew I was there, but I think she did and I’m glad I was.
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Oh Donna, I’m sorry this post made you cry, but we never forget the pain of losing our most dear and beloved ones do we? I’m sorry you couldn’t be with your dad, sometimes it just isn’t possible and you needed to be with your daughter, but I am sure your dear mom knew you were with her to the end, as the palliative nurse told me about my dad, and I’m so glad for you that you were able to… xoxo
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Sherri, this moving, heartbreaking account is a tribute to both you and your dad. Keep both of these wonderful pictures nearby, reminding you that the young child and the woman–and all in between–is the daughter of a man you loved. “Green Shutters” that you included in the comment for my blog, is a renewing point, too. Hugs and love to you, dear Sherri. ❤
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Thank you so much dear Marylin, I hold your comforting words closely in my heart, surrounded by your love and hugs which mean so much… ❤
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Hello dear Sherri – you have been missed! What an extraordinary time you have been through – a little like your life with your dad all wrapped up in the way it ended…. The robin video is also extraordinary. What a wonderful message to receive! My hope now is that the way will be clear for you to complete your memoir – it is a story that needs to be shared. I’m sending you warm thoughts and love across the miles. It’s also extraordinary how connected one can feel to people despite never having sat side by side and spoken heart to heart – yet I feel as if we have. This is a tender time, be gentle with yourself. xoxo
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Ahh, dear Pauline, how lovely to hear from you, I have missed you too! Thank you so much, as always, for your beautiful message which blesses me greatly. I know just what you mean about that connection, it truly is an extraordinary thing. I thought of you and my friends here so many times while I was away, missing you all, yet I wasn’t able to concentrate or focus, a numbing brain fog kept me mentally exhausted for a good couple of months and I rarely got on my laptop. And I honestly wondered if I would be able to write again at one point, so I let it all go otherwise I knew I would fall into such despair. But then, hubby and I took a holiday to Lake Garda in Italy (long ago booked before my mother’s stroke and then losing dad) and I will share in a follow up post how I found my inspiration again…and I truly do believe my dad is urging me on. I hope all is well with you my friend, I will catch up with you as soon as I can…and I’m feeling your love and hugs which help so much and I share in return with you… ❤
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Hi Sherri. I’m just trying to catch up myself and saw you posted and was saddened to read this moving and heartfelt post. I’m sorry for your loss.
And that robin… what a wonderful little Godsend! They (animals / birds) know when we need comforting, and that little robin certainly knew what to do. Two memories there, Sherri, to remind you of the other (should you ever need reminding).
Take care of yourself, Sherri.
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Hello Tom, how lovely to hear from you, thank you so much for your lovely message and kind condolences about my dad. You are right about that little robin, a beautiful Godsend. I feel priviliged to share such stories here, and I hope to share more as time goes by. I hope all is well with you my friend, I’ll be over as soon as I can to catch up, but again, it really is great to hear from you…x
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Dearest Sherri, I’m so sorry to hear about your dad. We both know God sent that Robin to let you know your dad is resting in the Father’s embrace now, and watching over you.
Take care, sweet friend, and be blessed.
Much love and prayer, ❤
Susan
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Thank you so much dearest Susan for your love and prayers and heartfelt message. I gain great comfort knowing that Dad is at peace now, such wonderful assurance from that little robin’s visitation! Bless you my friend, much love to you and I will be in touch… ❤
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I’m sorry to hear about your Dad but glad you got to spend those precious last days with him. That’s a lovely photo of the three of you in the 1960s.
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Ahh…thank you so much dear Rachel. I adore that photo, brings back so many happy memories of my younger years… xxx
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I’m so sorry for your loss, Sherri, and sending you love and many hugs from across the pond. There’s not a lot that can be said when death takes one of those we love but I know it hurts and deeply. It’s always been something I struggle with to this day — my heart and head conflict. In nature, people say that’s the cycle of life but I still can’t accept it. They also say when people are old that they’ve lived out their life and I can’t buy that either.
I share in your grief, my dear friend, and can only conclude in the slightest, if it be a little comfort, that we come into this world with bodies so we can feel, love, do things all the while making memories. And, when we check out that’s what we take with us to the other side. It’s the energy of all of what we felt, loved and experienced over here in our bodies. That’s what stays with us forever.
No doubt you and your brother gave your Dad many sweet memories to take with him even to the end in how much love and tenderness you showered on him. God bless you, my friend, and let your heart be sad for now. Your Dad’s never far away and Mr. Robin will always be there to let you know he’s close. ❤ ❤
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Dearest Pat, your message moved me to tears. And I agree with you. Just because someone is old and it’s ‘their time’ in the way of the world and the cycle of life and death, the pain never lessens when we lose a loved one, and losing a parent is so hard to bear. When my mum had her stroke in March and then, just recovering from it all, I got the news of my dad’s illness, it threw me into a malestrom of emotion. No matter what, it is still a shock and we still grieve. So yes, I understand exactly what you mean my friend. I know Dad is with me, I have great peace knowing that he found the same peace at the end of his life, and the loving comfort he was surrounded by from his little family. I had worried so much when Dad was younger that he might end up dying alone in some back alley when he was homeless and his drinking was really bad, and we would never know. But God is merciful and He gave my dad – and me and my brother – a wonderful gift at the end, one I am eternally grateful for. And He threw in Mr Robin too, as that extra assurance that all was well with my dad! So even though the grief persists, and I know it will never really go away, I can take great comfort in knowing that my brother and I did all we could for Dad and that we all shared a very deep love that never diminished and never will. And I know you understand all this Pat. I know you have suffered deep pain and loss, yet here you are comforting me. So we comfort one another. Bless you and again, thank you so much … ❤
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I remember when your mom had her stroke. I didn’t realize your dad taking ill was that close together.
You’re right in that the grief persists and it’s strong now because it’s so fresh. But, though, it never really goes away it does diminish and we always remember.
I’ve moved through some of that and now as I look back and remember I can still feel the feelings of it but now I’m able to see it from another perspective.
We ask questions trying to find answers but as time goes on and we move through our lives different circumstances bring forth the answers we were looking for back then. It’s all connected somehow and there’s always a tender grace.
Love and hugs, my friend. Take heart, Sherri, things will ease up and the light will shine making your heart merry again. xxoo 🙂
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Ahh…thank you so much dear Pat, you are very wise and you bring me great comfort in your wisdom, kindness and loving care. This year has been traumatic, really hoping and praying things settle down now. Even when we don’t get those answers, we can move forward in God’s grace, finding peace and strength in so many ways, whether through friendship or robins! I feel the light shining just through your words my friend…and your love and hugs which I send right back to you! Take care my friend, I’ll see you very soon… 🙂 ❤ xoxo
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And the same for you, Sherri, and more until we talk again real soon. Take care and God bless. 🙂❤ xoxo
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Thank you Pat…we will talk again very soon! Have a lovely weekend, all blessings to you.. 🙂 ❤ xoxo
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Hello, Sherri. So very sorry to hear of your sad news and the loss of your dear Dad. We’ve known him through your blogs on family life so a little bit is lost to us all, I feel.
I’ve missed you over the summer and was hoping that you were cracking on with the writing and that your absence from WP was nothing more than that. How life manages to throw up these curved balls. I’m sure you will think of your Dad every single day – I know I do mine – he died in 2009 after three terrible years of advanced dementia. But the memories become sweeter and I found that writing was a great way to aid the grieving process…it seems to open up channels of creativity somehow, and I’m sure it will for you.
Take care dear Sherri, I’m thinking of you and hoping that in the not too distant future we’ll be able to share a few laughs again. XOXO
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Ahh, dear Jenny, how I have missed greatly. I’ve thought about you many times over the summer, but I’ve been away from my laptop for a long time until recently. You were one of my very first blogging friends (after we met thanks to Spamgate) who commented on my stories about my dad and your dad too (remember the Norfolk Broads and the pink shorts?) and how we laughed, so bittersweet, and we shared that connection from the very start. I knew you would be sad to hear this news, I didn’t know what to say at first, I had to give myself some time before returning here, and then I just wrote what poured out.
Oh I am so sorry about your own dear dad, how hard that must have been for you and your mum and family, so, so sad. I know, like you, I will never stop thinking about my dad, but thank you for reminding me that things ease in time. I feel as if I’m overflowing with stories I want to share about Dad even more so than before, and I do write about him in my memoir, but I feel that something has shifted, in a good way.
I understand just what you mean about the channels of writing opening up, although during the summer, I felt I couldn’t write a thing. I’ve been looking forward to telling you that hubby and I had a holiday in Lake Garda last month (I remember well your lovely post about Lake Como!) and it was there that my writing inspiration returned, and you are right, I do feel a surge of creativity returning. I’ll share this in my next post.
But for now, I am back to working on my memoir and feel at long last I’m making the progress I had to put on hold. And I want to catch up with you…and yes, and as Jude also says in her lovely comment below, let’s pull up some chairs in the Summerhouse, crack open a bottle, or two and share those stories and a laugh or too once again. Laughter is the best medicine and certainly helps ease the pain of grief…
I know one thing, my dad would be telling me to enjoy life and not to waste a minute. Thank you so much for your lovely comment my friend, it is so lovely to hear from you again… ❤
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So sad to hear your news Sherri. My heart goes out to you. I am sure the family are giving you all the support you need, but it will take time. Allow yourself to grieve. The memoir will happen when the time is right and as Jenny says, one day we will all get together in the summer house again and have a few laughs and a glass or two. (( hugs))
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Hello dear Jude, thank you so much, it’s really lovely to hear from you, as I said to Jenny in my comment above, I’ve missed you a lot and wondered how things are going for you in your beautiful corner of Cornwall. Part of finding my way back after losing Dad found us in Cornwall a couple of times this summer, once near Bude (Morwenstow) and then in Looe. Yet to make it to St Ives, still haven’t done so, but it’s on the list for sure! And I would say much the same to you as I did to Jenny, about Spamgate and sharing stories with you about Dad and the laughs we’ve shared – which Dad would say to keep doing! – and all those bittersweet memories, and how spending time with good friends is great medicine. I’ll catch up with you very soon…but meanwhile, I’ll start dusting down the Summerhouse… ❤
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Please accept my heartfelt condolence, Sherri. So sorry about your loss.
Amazing about the robin in the video. ❤ ❤ ❤
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Thank you so much Tess, I really appreciate your heartfelt message… ❤ ❤ ❤
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❤ ❤ ❤ {{hugs}}
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❤ ❤ ❤ and hugs back Tess…thank you!!
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You are more than welcome, Sherri. 🙂 ❤
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Dear sweet Sherri, my friend, I am in tears for you. I know exactly how you are feeling as I went through this seven years ago when my dad died from bladder cancer that was found too late. I am so happy that you were able to have those last days with him. I love the picture of you and him that you posted and I love your voice!!! So sweet! That robin was a gift for sure just for you. I know you will miss him every day, but writing about him will be healing even though painful for a time. I pray you find peace in your grief. Love you bunches, Sherri! xoxo
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Thank you so much dear Patsy for your really lovely message, so kind and sweet you are. Oh I am so sorry about your own dear dad… We grieve, and we never forget, and we remember our dads always in all that we do. I am so happy to share the robin video, I still can’t believe I got to touch it like that, in the wild! British robins can be quite tame sometimes, but not in the wild like that so far as I know. And the timing was just so perfect. Godsent. Bless you for your love and prayers, much love and blessings right back to you my lovely friend and I will catch up with you very soon… ❤ xoxo
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You’re welcome, Sherri. And thanks. I remember my dad mostly in his retirement years since that is when he was such a wonderful Grandpa to my kids. 🙂 That is something about the robin! Definitely God’s timing! Thanks for your prayers as well. I think I am getting better every day. Still have a little cough, but am feeling better. I plan to work out today at some point. George is taking Grace to school so I get to stay home! Take care, my sweet friend! xoxo
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Thank you dear Patsy. That is one thing I wanted so much with my dad, that he could have spent time with his seven grandchildren. He would have been such a wonderful Grandad. But he sent them cards for their birthdays and Christmas and he loved to hear news of them. I’m so glad your kids got to have those ‘Grandpa’ years with your dad. So glad you’re feeling better too Patsy, despite the lingering cough. They always seem to be the last to go. I hope you got your work out in, a sure sign of your recovery! Nice to stay home and have that time to yourself 🙂 You take care too. I’m going to spend some time with my boys this weekend, so I’ll be in touch soon, but meanwhile I’m sending you big hugs 🙂 xoxo
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You’re welcome, Sherri. Unfortunately, my kids only really remember my dad in his final years when he wasn’t quite all there, and my oldest brother was constantly griping about him! But they do have a few memories here and there of quirky things Daddy did. We have lots of pictures of their early years with him so they know they were greatly loved. Well, I am definitely feeling much better. I got another day off from driving to town today! George took the whole day today and took the car in for some stuff and took Grace to school and picked Josh up from his girlfriend’s house. So I am looking forward to seeing him! He has been there since Sunday because of his work schedule. It was easier for our car situation for him to have his girlfriend take him to work and back. He needs to get a car of his own! 🙂 Today I finished a great memoir, the one by Wade Rouse called America’s Boy. I also did a little dusting and moving some of George’s books into neater stacks. He’s such a clutter bug! Anyway, have a lot of fun with your boys this weekend! Sending you big hugs back, Sherri! Love you! xoxo
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Those photographs are so important, so glad your kids have them to remember their Grandpa by. I’m so grateful for mine too, they certainly bring back many happy memories! Sounds like you’ve been busy Patsy, I need to do some of that dusting, big time! I’ve not heard of America’s Boy. I’ll have to look it up, sounds intriguing just from the title. Oh I remember those days with kids and cars and back and forth. I actually miss them, in a way! Thanks so much Patsy, it’s been great chatting with you this week. So glad you’re feeling much better, that’s great news. Have a wonderful weekend with your family and I’ll catch up next week. Love & hugs right back to you … 🙂 ❤ xoxo
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So sorry to hear about your loss, Sherri. This was an incredibly hard read, and it is so brave of you to open up to us. I don’t know what to say, but to take as long as you need before coming back to blogging and writing. Though it was a very sad moment that you shared with us, it was also one filled with love – and it is so evident that your dad loved you so much from what you wrote and these photos. That robin sounded like a very nice friend, and hope it was a smooth trip to the countryside. The robin sounded like it knew you needed some love, and so love and open up to you it it. Take care my friend. Sending you warm hugs and lots of love your way 🙂
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Ahh, I loved reading your heartfelt and beautiful message dear Mabel, thank you so much for your kind words about my dad; I wanted so much to convey the depth of love between us and my heart is happy knowing you felt it. I didn’t know what to write at first, so I let the words pour out and to be able to share here, so personally, is a privilige, amongst dear friends such as you, especially since I have written so much about my dad here from the very beginning. And also the robin…he definitely knew I needed some love…such a blessing! I was so glad to be able to share that little bird’s love 🙂 I hope things are well with you my sweet friend, I look forward to catching up with you as soon as I’m able…and again, thank you for your wonderful warm hugs – they help so much – and lots of love right back to you… ❤
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So moving and heartbreaking. Nothing quite prepares you for watching someone breathe their last. For life to escape from the body. I am so sorry for your loss. Dx
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You are so right David, nothing prepares you for it. Thank you so much for your kind message, I really appreciate it… x
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Sherri, you write so incredibly movingly about your grief, and your memories. Like so many others, this piece moved me to tears. I feel for you in your sadness.
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Thank you so much Jools…likewise, your heartfelt message moved me… xxx
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Oh sweet Sherri, your words took me to your dad’s bedside with you, that is how moving your writing was for me.. I send prayers for your dad’s comfort now in heaven and to you I send gentle hugs xx Take all the time you need before returning here ❤
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Thank you so much dear, sweet Christy…your gentle hugs and loving, kind message means so much to me… ❤ xxx
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A wonderfully emotional tribute, I have missed your writing my friend, you never fail to capture me with your words…it’s been tough for you but you know you have your blog gang here. As ever my friend, wishing you all the best and I am only am email away if you need Ste.
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Thank you greatly my friend, I so much appreciate your lovely messages and I’ve missed you too…I’ll see you very soon x
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I’ll put the kettle on! xx
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Put the kettle on and stoke the fire…I take one sugar 🙂 xx
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Sherri, I’m so sorry to hear about your Dad. I’ve loved to read your memories of you and your dad when you’ve shared them so that I had a fondness for him even though I’d never met him. I don’t think there’s anything quite like a dad and daughter relationship and I still miss my dad 15 years on. I cried my eyes out reading this, but it is a beautiful tribute. Perhaps that encounter with the robin was something meant to happen. Take care my friend.
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Ahh, dear Andrea, thank you so much. I’ve been honoured to share stories of my dad with you and you are right, a father daughter relationship is very special. Likewise, I have always enjoyed reading stories about your dad. I know that a day will never go by when I don’t think of mine, I will miss him always. It is really lovely to hear from you, I will see you as soon as I can and I hope that you’ve had a good summer. As you know, I share with you my love for this time of year, and I have found my creative bent once more, having thought I had lost it entirely for a time after Dad died. So now I pour that into completing my memoir, but I will ease back into blogging slowly. Again, thank you greatly my dear friend ❤
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I couldn’t write for four years when my mother was terminally ill, but eventually my creativity came back stronger than ever. You’ll get there Sherri, take care.
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Oh Andrea, I’m so sorry about your mother…you understand exactly. Thank you so much…and you take care too… xxx
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Oh Sherri, reading this has both my eyes, and my heart overflowing. My deepest condolences on the loss of your dad. How wonderful that you were able to be with him at the end!!
That robin allowing you to pet him, was just extraordinary! I know it helped soothe your heart’s sting.
I will be praying for your comfort, and healing of your heart.
Please take as long as you need!!
❤ Melinda
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Dear Melinda, it is so lovely to hear from you. I was very sad to have to bring this news after being away for so long, but I have shared so much about my dad here that I needed to share my heart about his final days. And then the robin too…what a very great blessing! Thank you so much for your lovely message and prayers, I really do appreciate it greatly…and I will see you soon my friend ❤
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Of course we wanted to hear!! What a wonderful blessing to be with him. You’re welcome.
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Thank you Melinda…and yes, it was a wonderful blessing to be with my dad to the end…a great privilige… ❤
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You’re welcome, Sherri.
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❤
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Sherri, what a touching tribute to a beloved father. My thoughts and prayers will be with you this coming year as I know the first year is so so difficult. Love, Luanne
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Thank you so much dear Luanne, I know you understand exactly the pain and the grief, for your own beloved father. I wonder why I feel the way I do some days and then remember it is only 3 months since Dad died…time is a great healer but we never forget do we? So lovely to hear from you, how I’ve missed you, all here. I hope you’re doing well, I’ll see you very soon. Love and hugs ❤
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Sherri… I’m so sorry to hear this. Xxx It just doesnt seem right to keep a sick old man in prison. You arrived in the nick of time, he was waiting for you. And the beautiful robin! It was a message to you, I’m sure of it. Folklore says birds are messengers between heaven and earth. Wild birds dont just sit in the path and allow you to stroke them. He was lovely, btw. I love robins too. I hope you can begin healing now. Writing will be emotional but cathartic for you. Sending you lots of hugs, hope you can feel them. Xxx
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Ahh, dear Ali, your message moved me greatly, thank you so much. Dad did wait, the timing was incredible, and I knew he wanted me there. Even the guards couldn’t understand why he was in prison, and I thought he should have been released long before, but too late for all that now. I truly believe it too, birds being those messengers. I actually saw a robin three different times, once while walking up to the prison gates, another while my brother and I were sitting at my kitchen table planning Dad’s Order of Service. It was raining, in July, and a robin appeared on the trellis right outside the kitchen French doors. It cocked it’s head as if it were listening, staying for a short few seconds and then flitted off. Never, in 9 years of living in our house, have I seen a robin on that trellis, in July or in the rain. In the winter/early spring, and also in the autumn, but always in the lower garden. We had an image of a robin beneath Dad’s photo on the front of his Order. And then to have that little robin let me stroke him…truly amazing. I am back to writing again, and it really is so carthartic. I feel a renewed flow…thinking of my dad and the robin helps! I’m loving and feeling your hugs Ali, and they also help…a lot! I’ll see you soon my friend… ❤
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That’s such an amazing story. And I’ve never seen anything like that video before. Its a gift, for sure, a gift of comfort. Im glad you’re writing again. You’re right, it really is cathartic. Take care of yourself. Xxx
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A true gift Ali…and I’m priviliged to share it with you, thank you so much. You take care too…big hugs… ❤ xxx
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Hi Sherri, what a beautiful, heartfelt and emotional post. I’m so sorry for your loss and am thinking of you xx
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Hello Elizabeth, thank you so much for your kind message, it means a great deal… xxx
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Hello, Sherri. The encounter with the Robin is absolutely amazing. If that is not a sign, then I don’t know what is. The Robin is also my favourite bird. It always has been, ever since I was a child. My father would tell me that the Robin was the messenger of Father Christmas. Your post is an incredible piece of writing.
Thank you for keeping in touch with me after the death of your dad. You know where I am.
Take care.
xx
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Hello dear Hugh, what a lovely story about your father and the robin being the messenger of Father Christmas. I love stories like that. And same with me, always my favourite since childhood. There is something quite magical about them isn’t there? What would Christmas be without them? I do indeed know where you are…and for that I am most grateful. You’ve been a wonderful support, I can’t thank you enough my friend. Thank you so much Hugh… ❤ xxx
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Ah, Sherri, the pain and sorrow of your loss is so cutting. Yet, the gift of Sweet Robin is all the gentleness you need in your time of grief. It happened all to suddenly, but you stayed there by your Dad’s side and you saw him through the eyes of a loving daughter. Big, big hugs for you, My Friend! ❤ ❤ ❤
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Thank you so much my dear friend…I am priviliged to share my heart with you and the very great blessing of Sweet Robin. Your comfort and big, big hugs are with me…I hope you feel the same from me coming your way as I type. God bless you always ❤ ❤ ❤
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Always! You have helped me through much. Thank you! ❤ ❤ ❤
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🙂 ❤ ❤ ❤ 🙂
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Oh Sherri, I’m so very sorry for your loss and the shock of it. It reminded me of my mother. The last time I saw her she had a huge tumor on her neck too, yet another secondary cancer. It seemed to all ear from nowhere. It’s a horrible thing to have sprung upon you but I’m glad you had those final days. You are in my thoughts,
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Oh Marie, it sounds as if your mother had the same or similar illness as my dad. It was a horrible shock. He had throat cancer for a couple of years and then, at the end, it took over so fast. That’s what I found out anyway, after I found him so ill in hospital. Tragic. and I’m so sorry for the loss of your mother. Thank you so much for your lovely message, it’s great to hear from you again, and I’m glad to have let you know what happened. I hope to catch up with you again soon, still slow progress, but at least I’m writing again. I hope you had a good summer, and I’ll see you soon. Take care ❤
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Dearest Sherri, Lovely to see you back but all my love goes out to you in the sadness you experienced in your time away. I understand your shock at seeing your Dad and am saddened that no-one thought to warn you. How wonderful you could have those 5 days with him before he passed, sharing his final moments and enveloping him in the love that he must have missed whilst in prison. I like to think of what he may have thought dying a free man. And just perhaps, those robins are going to hold his presence and continue to give you the love that you and he shared. Take your time and feel the hugs I am sending from downunder. Lots of love.
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Dearest Irene, it is so lovely to read your comforting words, thank you so much for your lovely message. I like to think the very same about those robins, I’ve seen a few lately, and each tme their presence has filled me with warmth and smiles and that wonderful reminder that dad was indeed surrounded by so much love. Every moment with him now flashes before me as if in a dream; even though the long hours ticked by, I could not get enough of the time I sat with him, talking to him, holding his hand, just being with him. I’ll be in touch my friend…and I’m sending lots of love and big hugs right back to you… ❤ xxx
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Wonderful to have that wonderful memory prompt with the robin. Comfort and joy they will bring you for many many years. Lots of love my friend. 🙂
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They certainly will my friend, they certainly will 🙂 I hope you’re feeling better now…will be in touch and sending lots of love to you ❤
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What a moving and thoughtful post. It’s always a wrench when a parent dies, but must have been particularly so for you in these circumstances. If your memoir is written as well as that, it should be compelling reading.
It’s good to have you back.
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Hi Graeme, great to hear from you and thank you so much for your kind message, means a lot. I’ve missed blogging, it’s slow going still, but I look forward to catching up with you very soon.
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To be fair, I’ve not done much for a few months, but really seem to have the bit between my teeth at the moment. So, it’ll come… when you’re ready
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It goes like that doesn’t it? Thanks Graeme, I look forward to catching up. Meanwhile, have a great weekend 🙂
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Oh my goodness. I am so sorry for your loss. This was sad and hard and beautiful to read. Blessedly you were there for you dad in the end.
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Thank you so much dear Beth for your lovely message… ❤
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Sherri, my heart goes out to you – I am so sorry for the loss of your father. The shock at seeing him must have been gut wrenching, no forewarning at all. Your last few days together will have brought him some comfort and for now you do right to go slow, grief has its own path and one you can’t fight. Please be at peace within yourself and let the happy albeit crazy memories give you strength and comfort. I have seen this before with animals after time of loss, coming close, reassuring – the video with the Robin is truly astonishing and definitely a sign. Warmest wishes and hugs, Sherri and good to see you back here. ❤️
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So lovely to hear from you, thank you so much dear Annika for your lovely message and words of comfort and care. It truly is astounding isn’t it the way animals seem to be sent as messengers at times when we really need them. I will never forget that day when the little robin let me stroke him…it fills me with an indescribable warmth and healing, just a knowing that Dad is alright, and so comforted knowing he was surrounded with love and peace and did not suffer at the end helps greatly. I very much look forward to catching up with your posts, and I will very soon. Until then, I’m hugging your back… ❤
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My heart is with you, Sherri. It’s impossible to anyone to imagine the pain of others when they encounter death. But at some point we all loose someone we love. So it allows us to feel the pain. You’ve been fortunate to have a loving relationship with your dad, so it will be first harder to move on but easier then. Good memories help us much more than bad or blank ones. I wish you the very very best. And hope to read you soon too. Good luck with the memoir.
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So lovely to hear from you dear Evelyne, thank you so much for your kind, comforting message. I have so many of those good memories and it is those I hold onto, and also so many stories I want to write. I’m back to my memoir now, slowly, and I do hope to visit you very soon. I hope you had a lovely and productive summer. I am looking forward to catching up with you. Thank you again my friend… ❤
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Take care, Sherri. 💐
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You too Evelyne, thank you! 🙂 xo
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Beautiful, heart wrenching post. Your sorrow blended easily with mine . . . the love of a parent . . . the loss . . . there is nothing like it. A flock of cardinals came to dwell in my sister’s yard after my mother died. One stayed on her window sill for weeks. She took it for the sign it was and shared her story with me. Then I began to see them in my yard as well, these little creatures inducing the grief, helping to carry our emotions toward expression. A sacred gift. Thank you for sharing your story. You not only helped yourself release some of your love and grief, but helped your readers as well.
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Thank you so much for your moving comment Dorothy, for sharing your beautiful story about your mother and the flock of cardinals with me. Such visitations truly are a gift, helping us heal and as you say, moving ‘our emotions toward expression.’ So beautiful. And you are right, there is nothing like losing a parent. Not long before I got the news about my dad, I was telling a friend that I was not ready to lose either of mine (my dear mum had a stroke in March, out of the blue, huge shock, but thank goodness is recovering…). And then it happened. Yet, in the sharing, we help one another, as you have in your kind message today… xo
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Thank you for sharing your loss and grief so openly, Sherri, with feelings still so raw. What a shock for you to find your beloved Dad so ill that day, without any forewarning.
I love the video of the robin. The significance of that experience brought tears to my eyes.
I have missed you in the blogosphere, but understand your need to be away, to grieve, and to begin to heal.
I apologise it has taken me so long to get over here to your post. I’ve had a busy week.
Look after yourself. Biggest hugs. xo
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Ahh dear Norah, never any need for you to apologise, none at all. It is so very kind of you to take the time to leave your lovely message. I have missed blogging too; although I’ve needed this time away, I’ve missed the companionship here very much. But I’ve found using the laptop very tiring, which has hindered me. I knew you would love the robin video, I will never forget that moment. I’m hoping to head over to the Ranch shortly, my first flash for months…I’m so rusty! I hope things are going well with your business Norah, I very much look forward to catching up with you. Thank you so much for your kind thoughts and words…feeling those biggest hugs and I’m hugging right back! xxxx
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Thanks, Sherri. I’m still slugging away. Sometimes I think into the void. My developers haven’t been much help with promotion of my site. Little irks.
But it’s good to have you back, and I do look forward to reading your flash.
Hugs received and returned. Ten fold. 🙂
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Oh I’m so sorry to hear that Norah…I really hope the ‘growing pains’ ease off and things really start to take off for you and soon. Ahh…it’s so good to be back at the Ranch, been such a long time… Have a great day my friend, those hugs help greatly! 🙂 xoxo
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Thanks Sherri. Look after yourself. xx
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Thank you Norah, and you too. See you soon! xxx
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Another addition to the condolences – take care, Sherri.
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Thank you so much Anne, I very much appreciate your kind condolences… xxx
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So sorry for your loss Sherri. May God’s peace and comfort find you. I’m glad you got to be with him once more.
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Thank you so much Lilka…it was a very great blessing to be with Dad to the end… ❤
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So glad Sherri. Do take care of yourself. Remember a dream deferred is not a denial. You will get back on track in God’s perfect timing. Hugs to you!
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I will definitely remember your wise words, just want I needed to read today…thank you so much Lilka and huge hugs back! xoxo
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So sorry, Sherri x
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Thank you Catherine… xxx
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Oh Sherri, I am so very sorry for your monumental loss. My heart aches for you. The love you have for him is evident and always shines through in your beautiful writing. Thank goodness you were there with him when he needed you the most. I am sure your presence and unconditional love filled his heart and gave him the peace he needed. I know the pain of losing a father and after 17 years – it still stings. Sending you lots of hugs (tight ones) and strength. 💜❤️
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’17 years and it still stings’…Oh Maria, nothing prepares us for the loss of a parent does it? Thank you so much for your loving message and tight hugs…they help so much ❤ ❤
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Dearest Sherri, my heartfelt condolences on the loss of your dear dad. The photos are so precious, and thanks for sharing your memories too. Sending you big hugs and lots of love across the miles from South Africa. 👩❤️👩💞
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Thank you so much dearest Sylvia…I’m sending the same love and hugs right back to you in South Africa…will be over to see how you are ❤ xoxo
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The robin video was amazing – thanks for that and sending (again) my condolences mon amie!
And praying that God will go with your memoir and for strength and edification and that each edit – each section – will be exactly as it should be!
❤️️❤️️❤️️
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I knew you would love the robin video mon amie… And again, I thank you so much for your prayers and condolences and sweet, loving message. Huge hugs ❤ ❤ ❤
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😊✌🏼️❤️❤️❤️
🐤
(Pretend the yellow bird is a robin)
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Love it! ❤ ❤ ❤
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It’s almost cathartic, writing about Dad, isn’t it, Sherri? We’re almost in the same boat, but I won’t be writing about mine on the blog. I’ve done it with Meg and with Jude and it helps. Wishing you happiness,hon. You’ve earned a little now. And a few hugs 🙂 🙂
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So glad you’ve found help with your friends Jo…sending you extra-special hugs… ❤ xxx
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Thanks, sweetheart. They’re very welcome. 🙂
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🙂 xxx
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