Three Years Without You

Three years ago today, I was in Hong Kong.

My then boyfriend and I were on a 24 hour layover after spending an epic 2 weeks in Bali. We had the best time enjoying the beach clubs of Seminyak, the monkey forest of Ubud and the island parties of Gili T. It was a great escape from the reality that my dad was ill. 

5 months previously, in April 2017, my dad was diagnosed with renal cancer after an investigation following a persistent cough. In June, he had an operation to remove his right kidney and other infected areas; a move we believed would save him.

I had just moved back home after giving up my job as Cabin Crew and was figuring out my next career move. Instead, I spent the summer visiting my dad in hospital and at a local hospice. I cared for him when he was home, and watched him grow thinner and weaker as he struggled to get better. 

The day I was due to leave for Bali, my dad was stable and at home with carers checking in on him daily. In saying my goodbyes, I was excited for my trip, but anxious to leave my dad for so many days. I’d only managed a week away so far for a friend’s wedding in Northern Ireland.

But this time was different. I was flying 7,000+ miles away.

Everyone tried to reassure me that it would be ok, I should enjoy the break and nothing was going to change in 2 weeks. As I walked out of the door, I stopped and ran back to hug my dad once more. He held me as best he could, kissed my head, and tried to reassure me by saying “I’ll be here when you get back”. What I would give to go back to that moment and hold him again. 

11 days later, my ex and I were having drinks with some friends before heading out in Gili T when I received a message from my cousin. It read that she was sorry, hoping I was ok and was there for me if I needed. My heart was immediately in my throat. Starting to panic, I rang my auntie. I was informed that my dad had got worse and I needed to get back to the UK asap. 

Tears already streaming, we abandoned our evening plans and instead made the necessary travel arrangements to get home. After an extremely tight and stressful turn-around, we arrived in Hong Kong the next evening.

As our flight to Heathrow wasn’t for another 24 hours, we spent the day suffocating in the humidity of the city, but relishing the chance to explore. I had sent photos of our day to the family group chat, but hadn’t received a response. Hoping that it was the time difference or because they were busy with dad, I tried to put any anxiety out of my mind. I felt sick most of the night. 

We had arranged to meet my ex’s parents at the airport to get my car from them before driving home, so I wasn’t surprised when his dad met us at arrivals at 5:30am. We were guided through, bleary eyed, but as we turned the corner to a little enclave, I saw my family awaiting us. I knew at that moment I was too late. 

My dad died on September 5th 2017 at 4:33am. I missed him by 25 hours. 

My dad was the best. A top bloke. A good egg. He was kind and loving, thoughtful and rational. He taught me how to drive, helped me pass my maths GCSE and gave me my love of cooking.

It still hurts to know I missed my chance to be with him at the end. My family reassure me that my trip was still worth it. Being a travel lover himself, he enjoyed seeing my holiday updates. Plus, if there was any inkling to his deterioration prior to me leaving, then I wouldn’t have gone. But, there are lots of “what ifs” when you look back and it’s too dangerous to spend time consumed by those thoughts. 

Three years on and the numbness and shock have subsided. I think of him often, but find the grief easier to cope with when I’m away from my family home. It’s too all consuming there. Telling someone “my dad’s dead” for the first time is still difficult, but once those words have left my lips, I feel a minor weight lifted. 

My heart hurts in the knowledge that he will never walk me down the aisle, give his father-of-the-bride speech, or meet his (potential) grandchildren. It hurts for my mum who has lost her teammate, travel companion and best friend.

I wish I could tell him how I finally landed a job in the city.

I wish he could have been there when I got my heart broken.

I wish we had more time together. 

Losing my dad has changed my life completely. I’m different since then. It’s a daily reminder to live in the present. To go on that holiday because the experience is far more important than how much money you’ve spent on it. To spend time with those you care about and who care about you. 

Dad –

I wish we were on an Greek island again so Harry and I could rescue you when your windsurfing blew you offshore.

I wish you would spill some red wine over your white shirt because you were too animated when telling a tipsy story.

I wish I could be your sous chef on Christmas day.

I wish you would hug me one more time.

Thanks for being the best dad a daughter could have. I miss you everyday and I love you endlessly.

Els x

Read The Empty Nest for more words on the great man we lost.