Memoirs – Always With Us

Just Giving Page

Thank you 🙏 to everyone who has donated so far, as some of you may know our Dad had diabetes. Dad tried his hardest to control it, but a big lover of food, this was something dad found hard and sometimes old habits are hard to break. In time dad made better choices and learnt how to live with the disease. Diabetes doesn’t just impact your sugar levels, it’s slows down your body to heal itself, cuts, bruises and even the common cold took Dad at least 4 times longer to get better than if he wasn’t a diabetic. This was one of dads irritations with having to live with this disease.

3 years ago, Dad had a nasty accident whilst on holiday, spending 2 months in ICU, in Thailand, then making the long, awful journey home via air ambulance, the doctors informed my Mum, that dad would never walk again. Mums dedication and determination never allowed this to happen. Mum slept on the sofa in the living room for 18 months as dad was provided a hospital bed. Mum never left dads side! mum would 2/3 times a day would massage Dad, this helped with circulation, eventually Mum asked Dad to stand up using his Zimmer frame, he did just that! That was the beginning!

Every day Mum would make Dad do this, then he took his first few steps, wobbly but he took them! Mum said to Dad ‘I told you, we will do this!’.

Dad was soon walking with a walking stick and eventually on his own!

Dad was able to drive and started going back to the one place he loved, London auto electric, his workshop in Eastham. This business of our Dads was something he knew and loved for the last 44 years. And Mum was not going to allow him to give this up, if she had, Dad would have got worse and probable depressed, but mum gave us our dad back, the softly spoken gentleman who loves doing something new every day.

18 months ago, Diabetes eventually took hold of Dads kidneys, with endless hospital’s appointments and mum cooking special meals regardless of what shift she was on at work. The regular massages kept dad off of dialysis as long as possible. Then the inevitable happened, dad needed to go on dialysis.

A simple ‘day surgery’ procedure changed all of our lives.

The surgeon who performed the PD catheter, raptured a blood vessel. This surgeon actually said sorry to our Mum, for he knew he had made mistake and left dad to bleed internally. A second operation within 12hours, another surgeon tried to fix the blood vessel, he discovered that not only are the blood vessels raptured but also the intestines. Unfortunately, Dad was not getting better, a 3rd operation by a 3rd surgeon meant 3 lots of anaesthetics’ in less than 48 hours. Dad came out of that surgery very very poorly. The doctor’s advice was for us to expect the worse. Being bought up with a ‘glass half full’ attitude, his positive thinking rubbed on us and we would never give up!

Eventually Dad just had enough and finally went to sleep on 26th February, leaving behind a broken family.

We credited our Dads Just Giving Page with a very generous amount of £560 taking the total to over £3300. This money was generously donated by our friends and family who came home to pay their respects to our dad. We collected the money via a ‘diabetes bucket’ which we had at home, and then took to the crematorium and gurdwara.

We are grateful and humbly thank you all for your generosity and the priceless continuous support that you give us. A social media message or a phone call during this hard time was so appreciated.

Our Mum, Jaswinder Sagoo, is overwhelmed with all the prayers and kind thoughts she has received.

Mum also wanted to express her gratitude for the unconditional love and support you have all given her especially during this ‘unknown’ – the new norm ‘times we are facing.

We understand how difficult this pandemic has been.

🙏

26/04/2021

Dear Dad,

It’s been 14 months now, as much as I want you here, deep down I know that you and the family and friends you are with are definitely in a free and safer place! You undoubtedly (more than a year later this pandemic has for some countries got worse) would’ve been so upset to hear the latest news about India. Especially with all of the donations you have sent there to give people less privilege than yourself a better chance at life!

Dad, last week as lockdown slightly eased I was able to finally go home, I certainly can feel you there but I definitely missed your disapproval look and the shake of the head, as usual I said out loud what I should only be thinking!

For the first time I took Niam to your workshop. I don’t know why, yet I still expected you to come out, telling me to park outside your premises, you telling the boys to keep an eye on my car. Going inside still smelt of oil and all things cars that familiar smell it’s hard! Your overalls are still hanging there along with your coat. Your vice and workstation have been left untouched. Just how you left it expecting to return after your surgery.

I took pictures of the 2 massive starter motors . I tried lifting them ! Dad, you’re right they are heavy and huge!

I took Niam around, showing and allowing him to touch everything and anything! I showed him how I used to spin the pulleys on the alternators which would then spin the rotator. One of my favourite things to do when I was his age. Some would spin and some wouldn’t, getting greasy hands as I was on this little adventure of mine.

Niam kept asking me ‘where is Nana Ji?’. I just said you are working on a car. He went around your premises looking for you!

Looking back , I can’t believe I was Niam’s age roaming around and playing in your workshop, you never told us we weren’t allowed to be there. Instead we became your helpers. Not sure if ‘helpers’ is the right word

I bet you can’t guess what mum made for me!!!! My first meal after 4 long months!

Posho Alloo Boga (green beans and potato sabzi) AND it was delicious!!!!

You would’ve sat at the head of the table complaining that you’ve been eating this again and again. And again and again you’d me asking between each mouthful is this really your favourite!

And like clockwork, I’d be saying yes and no one is forcing you to eat it!

You’d reply with ‘but when your Mum makes it, it’s so tasty!’.

This conversation happens every-time mum makes my favourite boga. There was a time when mum made it just for me, you’d know I was popping over as this was always on the menu, but now that everyone enjoys it, it’s like a weekly thing now!

Dad, Mum did you! So we were talking about jobs I think, Mum me and the children. I said ‘I think Jay could become a pianist’.

Obviously Leia hears something else and cracks up! Mum at this point is saying nothing too, Jay wants to laugh but keeps his cool! So me being me, I decide to address the elephant in the room.

So I say to Leia ‘I said pianist not penis, why would I want Jay to become a penis?’.

Jay very calmy said ‘Nani, Mummy just said the word penis!’.

Yep I got it! The look and the shake of the head!

Dad, do you remember when we used to cook together. More like I’d be peeling and chopping. I used to be like ‘Dad you’re meant to help me’ and you’d reply with ‘I’m supervising!’.

Dad, do you remember our signature dish? It was chicken with slices of carrots and onions with a good helping of red wine!

Dad, as I was cooking you’d be saying ‘don’t cook the carrots too much’. It was because you like them ‘crunchy’. When I was pouring in the wine to make the gravy you’d be like ‘darling, what about us!’. You’d always let me have a small glass of wine while we cooked.

Dad, looking back I don’t actually remember sitting down to eat it. All I actually remember are the escalating number of bowls in the sink because we kept on tasting it!

What did we eat it with: rice, bread, roti or pitta? I seriously can’t remember! All I remember is the endless tasting and adding of this that and the other!

You love for food and experimenting with flavours meant that the last words would always come from you, ‘next time we will try adding …..’

Miss you Dad

Cherish your memories! Write them down so you never forget and you can pass these stories on!

26/03/2021

Dear Dad,

Every time I end a letter to you, I always think this is my last. Then I have a chat with someone and they trigger off yet another hidden treasure!

Dad, this particular event I actually had forgotten about, until Kawal mentioned it, We were in fits of laughter just remembering it. It’s probably going to be one of those ‘you had to be there to appreciate your wittiness’. To be honest Dad, it was the first time I had actually seen you treat us like girls ‘ protecting us against ‘boys’!

There’s me and Kawal aged about 13 and 15, in your workshop dressed in our blue overalls, and probably look like we’ve washed our faces with grease!

We’re in and out of the workshop helping you, passing you tools, holding the torch as you fix a customer’s car. It was like any other Saturday for us, you giving us a stack of alternators and starter motors to open, or spray painting the new refurbished ones that you and your employees had already made. As always we probably spent what you had made that, going to the ‘sweet’ shop and eating fish and chips out of the paper bag, on our laps or on a makeshift table.

This particular Saturday however, we attract the attention of a group of 4 or 5 boys. They were a few years older than us. Dad I remember you telling us to go inside. Being a corner property you had 2 entrances to the shop, one at the front and one on the side, not far from each other. We used the side entrance as that was the closet to us. The lads came in through the front following us. We then came back out to you and they stood in the doorway blocking your way! You asked them if they wanted to buy something or have a car to be fixed. They said no. As you escorted me and Kawal into the kitchen, you asked them to leave. They replied ‘we want to look at the girls working’. You stopped and turned around and without hesitation you answered back ‘you can look at me!’.

Being in what was very male oriented workplace, Dad, I’ve lost count the number of times Kawal answered your phone and said ‘no it’s a beautician!’ And put the phone down. You’d then ask, I heard the phone ring, I’m laughing away and Kawal is trying to convince you that it was a wrong number. You always wondered why you never got customer calls on Saturday when we were there, and now you know!

Dad, do you remember when you left me and Bubbly (Sharan) all alone at your ‘new shops’? We were about 15 and 11 I think. You dropped us about 9am, you gave me about 15 alternators and starter motors to open. Each in their individual boxes and a spray can cap. You said you’ll be back at lunch time to see how we were and obviously the one reason we loved coming to work with you was the lunch! So there’s me opening up the alternators and starter motors. I’ve taken all the spray paint caps out of the boxes and told Bubbly to neatly separate all the washers, nuts screws, springs etc into each cap!

When you came back, me and Bubbly had finished and were sitting on the bench chatting away. You asked me were all the open alternators and starter motors were, I showed you the stacked-up boxes. Initially you were well impressed Dad! You checked one box, then another and then another. You asked me were all of the components were. Bubbly and I then very proudly showed you our line of plastic caps on the workbench. We explained how we had separated all the components. Dad you stood there frozen ! In disbelief even! We asked what was wrong! Dad you literally couldn’t speak. You just said ‘you’ve given me more work!’, I was like ‘how?, I opened these like you asked!’. You told me I should’ve kept everything in one box and now it’s all mixed up.

You told me it’s going to take you a week to sort this mess out!

That was it, that’s how angry you got, that’s all you said, and you never mentioned it again.

In the car, especially if it was just you and us 4, you’d be teaching us how to shout ‘no’! And in the car we’d be shouting ‘no’ back to you. You’d be saying ‘louder’! And we’d get louder, and you’d again say louder . There’s us Kawal, Bubbly (Sharan), Suman and me shouting from the top of our lungs ‘no’! You were teaching us how to say no if someone offered us either a cigarette or drugs. Suman is always telling us were to put our thumb if we ever need to throw a punch! ‘Always out wrapped around your fingers otherwise you could break it’.

See Dad, we do listen to you, we have learnt so much from you, things we took for granted thinking everyone gets taught this by their Dads! You’ll be well proud dad. This week I actually took the oven door off, separated all of the glass, 4 panes in total, cleaned it all, I then had to put the door back together and place it back on to its rollers. It’s no ordinary hinge door, it’s one of those bake-off ovens with a sliding door. I showed Jason! He too was impressed!

See I do know how to use a screwdriver!

Miss you Dad

Cherish your memories! Write them down so you never forget and you can pass these stories on !

10/03/2021

Dear Dad,

Last year, the day before today was a bright sunny day. I know this because between us all we were going between the kitchen and the shed picking up the bunches of flowers, getting them ready for you Dad, for your funeral on the 10th of March 2020.

On 10th March 2020, waking up at about 5am, not that I needed to set the alarm the night before because I can’t remember actually sleeping. I get ready, knowingly it’s the day of my dad’s funeral, make up and being dressed up is ‘forbidden’, what will people say!!!! But Dad, even in the past when you’ve been so poorly in hospital, I always made sure that when I came to visit you I looked like you would expect me too. I think if I didn’t then you’d think ‘there’s actually something wrong with me, especially if Kiran is looking like that’! I chose not to wear mascara or eyeliner today but I definitely had my lipstick on for you. If anybody was going to say something my answer was going to be simple, go and tell my dad. As strong as I was going to be and for your soul to be at peace we shouldn’t cry today, I knew today I was going cry for you. Not just because it’s your funeral, but the thought of me coming home so early, I would normally find mum showered and dressed and more than likely lunch would be ready. You dad would be getting up with ease, you’d come downstairs in your chequered pjs and a sleeveless vest. I’d greet you with my usual ‘good morning handsome’ and you’d reply ‘hello darling’.

You’d shower, get ready and would always wear shirt and trousers. You’d call the boys at work telling them that you’ll come later because Kiran from Kent (like it was different country) had come.

At home we all waited patiently for your arrival, you were coming home at 9:30, the closer it got to this time you could see and feel the anxiousness in everybody.

You were home for about an hour. As they placed you back in your car, Dad, it was a Bentley ! Kawal, Bubbly, Suman and me, with our huge bags ready to cover the street with petals. At that moment the sun shone and the rain stopped!

We stood, 2 on each side in front of Roy, the funeral director. He said in the 40 plus years he had done this job he never seen anything like this, your dad must have been a really special man. Can’t remember who but one of us replied with ‘beyond special’.

As we looked back at your car Dad, there were flowers everywhere, mostly adorned with yellow. We had covered the whole of the street, right to end with flowers until your car turned the corner taking you to make you your last journey to the 2nd place you loved your shops.

Between the 4 of us, we tried to write your eulogy. We stopped and started and stopped and started. With so many people visiting we never really could sit down and do it. So I took it upon myself to write it. I didn’t come home that day, I just sat down with my laptop and typed. It was easy to start because 2 months earlier I wrote your birthday speech for you 70th birthday. You gave me a thumbs up so I knew it was ‘safe’. Keeping it ‘vegetarian’ was the key. So I copied and pasted the speech, added a bit more. Dad, what I’ll never forget is, at 1am on the day of your birthday, when I typed up your speech ready for your party, the last sentence I remember it so clearly, on the Friday before your funeral I deleted it because it said…..

‘Dad, we love you and here’s to the next milestone birthday’.

09/03/2021

Dear Dad,

Tomorrow this time last year (Tuesday 10th March 2020) would’ve been the day of your funeral. It would have been less than 2 weeks since you had left us! And boy was it a busy 2 weeks.

When we left the hospital on the Wednesday 26th February 2020 for the very last time, we got home late, then we got back to our house well after 2am.

I remember waking up about 7am, the children were getting ready to go to school. One by one I told them that they both had their very own personal guardian angel. I don’t think they actually digested it, for this was the first time they had lost someone so close to them. Dad, you always looked on the positive, so I told them, look at the positive you’ve got a few days off school! It didn’t actually work, they just looked at me, confused and not sure how or what they should feel!

Kawal called me about 8am that morning, she was the same as me, sitting in her house in limbo, not knowing what we should do next. Jason had a few things to sort out for work before we could leave, and the children were packing to stay at home for a few days. Me, just sat there watching the TV, but not watching nor listening. If I had I would’ve known about the upcoming pandemic we faced. We now realize how ‘lucky’ we are to have given you the farewell that so many thousands have missed out. For this we are ever so grateful beyond words can ever describe.

Less than 2 weeks later the whole of country, the world even had started to go into lockdown. But I couldn’t hear the news nor see the picture! I just sat there ! Earlier Kawal suggested I call someone. Jason’s parents were on holiday. I decided to call Jason’s Aunty. It was the first time I had said those words. ‘My dad died yesterday, he passed away’. I’ll never forget that ‘this is real’ feeling, it’s no longer a nightmare, but my reality.

Aunty came within 15 minutes, she looked after me, consoled me, told me the things I needed to hear, what a wonderful kind hearted person you are, your dad will always be your dad!

We eventually got home; I still call my childhood house – home that’ll never change.

Dad, I actually can’t remember what happened that day, all I know is we did what you would’ve wanted. Anybody that came to pay their respects to you, you wouldn’t want anyone to leave without eating or drinking. So that’s what we did, with the massive help and advice from the puji’s, we soon had (you’re gonna love this) a systematic system as you would have called it. For the next 13 days, friends and family were bringing so much food, people were asking if they could make something we actually had to tell people no! That there’s too much, we were so grateful with everyone’s generosity. We had kala cholay (black chickpea curry), Kudhi (yellow curry), daal (lentils), alloo matter (pea and potatoe curry), vegetable pasta, fresh salads, mitae chawl (sweet rice) and so many other dishes I can’t remember all of them! You’ll be pleased to know I rolled all of the rotis (chapattis), probably a good 1000 in those 13 days, if not more. We had people coming every day, we had 50-100 people come each day, some people I didn’t know who they were, friends you had made for the last 45 years working at your garage some before that from your BT days, some people recognised me from working in your workshop, some people came to say thank you for helping them. From about 10am to the last people leaving at 9pm or even 10pm nobody came without a story to tell about how they had met you or even one about you.

As the days went on, Jason and bubbly (Sharan) made the necessary arrangements for your funeral. I asked mum if we could throw flowers on church road, your last journey out of your home street. Mum said ‘Kiran, this is the last time you can do something, you do whatever you want’!

So I told the girls my vision. I wanted to make sure your car you were in just drove on a bed of petals until the end of our road. Mum and dad live at number 6, so it’s only a short distance until you get to the end of the road. The girls were well excited, because we know you would’ve said ‘ what a waste of money’. Between the four of us, we bought flowers, Suman bought lots back from Kent, we bought every bunch in Ilford. Looking back, I now remember empty shelves, people were getting ready for this pandemic! The shed in the garden was full of different colourful flowers, plentiful for the short distance from number 6 to number 1 (the end of the road).

I called Roy at the funeral directors. I tell him what our plans are for that short journey. He stopped me halfway, saying ‘you do know that we will be taking your dad to the end of his road’.

I’m like ‘ yeah that’s fine, we’ve bought ample flowers , there will be enough petals on the ground!’

He said ‘yes, but we’re not walking to number 1, but the other end’.

Mum and dads road has over 60 houses! That’s more that 6 times the length.

I told him, it’s not a problem we will find these flowers! I’m on a mission! This is what I wanted to do!

Sunday morning before your funeral Bubbly and I went to the flower market, Maanay had recommended this place. We got up 6am ok more 7am. Dad this place was amazing, mum would’ve loved it! We bought 8 boxes of daffodils, Bubbly’s idea. We bought these beautiful brightly coloured carnations; they were huge and lots of other flowers.

We also stopped for a coffee and sausage roll in this rather quaint coffee shop. All of the crockery was mis-matched, along with the tables and chairs. Bubbly asked me ‘what are we actually doing’, so I stated the obvious eating a ‘home-made’ sausage roll and drinking coffee, whilst shopping for flowers. I knew what she meant, but I wanted to keep it light-hearted. She asked ‘are we really doing this’? I asked her, when was the last time, just you and I went out on our own. No kids no husbands, no one else! When will ever do this again? See, dad has bought us here together! To enjoy this food and drink while we shop! (and the bookends) Kawal and Suman to look after the kids while we enjoy this Sunday morning.

When we got home, one by one we took the bunches and boxes in, we stood in a line to pass it down with mum being in charge of what she loves doing the most, sorting out the flowers, the shed was full of flowers, mum had put them into huge cooking pots and buckets. We tried filling them up with a watering can but it was taking so long so mum pulled the hosepipe into the shed and started filling them up with water.

Dad you would’ve said ‘darling!’.

We had what looked like thousands of flowers, roses, tulips, carnations, lilies and daffodils, lots and lots of daffodils.

Dad the day before your funeral everyone was helping to take the petals off, it was like a tag system. It was all set up on the breakfast table in the kitchen, when the chairs became vacant someone else would come and take over. It was very therapeutic; it was also a laugh! I reckon everybody who helped will always think of you when they see a daffodil. Every time a bucket was finished they thought it was all finished. Yet more bunches of flowers came out.

They filled 4 huge shopping bags ready for your arrival the next day!

Miss you Dad

26/02/2021

As I look out of my window today, Friday 26th February, it’s a blue sky, no clouds and warm for a February day. That’s exactly how it was last year, I remember that as we sat in the Uber, how unusually bright and cloudless the sky was. Dad, even in February you can make the sunshine.

Summer was always your favourite season.

We get to the hospital at about quarter past 10. Mum and Bubbly go into see you. Kawal and I wait outside speculating why we’ve been called. Dad, we got it so wrong! The doctor said he’d like to speak to all of us with you. My initial thought was that you’re waking up, you’re getting better, you’re coming home. Once we’re inside the ICU, the first thing I notice is the dialysis machine has gone. There was this massive space where it once stood.

That’s when the doctor started talking. I’m not sure what exactly he said but I just remember him saying ‘there’s nothing else we can do for your dad’. What he said thereafter, I don’t know because I left, it’s not what I wanted to hear. I left you, mum, Kawal and bubbly in there, to listen to the doctor.

I remember running down the corridor, a police officer stopped me, asked if I was ok, I just replied ’my dad is fine, the doctors have got it wrong!’.

Dad, now when I look back and compare you to the other patients, you looked the most comfortable, yes you were asleep but you always looked at peace and weren’t in pain. That’s probably the most reassuring thing about this all.

The doctor, mum and the girls found me in the waiting room. The doctor then explained to us why the dialysis machine was taken off. It just wasn’t working for you anymore, and that they couldn’t give you any more medicine because it just wasn’t going to help you. He asked us to think about turning of your machines that were keeping you alive. Don’t worry we said no! We told the doctor that’s not our decision and that you’ll decide when the time was right.

The doctor agreed, and said he’d give us another few hours with you, and then we’d have to make a decision.

We then had to make the phone calls to your family and friends. Telling them that today may be your last with us. Someone asked me what time ?! My head wanted to ask them ‘what time suits you?’ But don’t worry dad, I didn’t, I just said ‘when dad feels it’s the rights time for him’.

The staff at the ICU were so sympathetic towards us. The two to a bed rule no longer applied to us. There was a good 30 of us, your closest friends and family. The boys from your garage closed the workshops to be with you too. Everyone who could be with you was there.

We played your favourite hymn Taati wao na laggai’.

Dad, You said that if you recite this part, whenever you are worried, scared or in pain, this shabad will take it away from you. That’s what we wanted for you. We didn’t want you to worry about us, we didn’t want you to feel scared, and most of all the pain in our hearts shouldn’t be there because as a husband, a dad, a father-in-law and grandad you are simply the best.

Dad, at about 4:15pm you had tears as you took your last breath with us and finally fell asleep forever.

It was Wednesday 26 to February 2020, Wednesday was always your favourite day of the week !

The nurses allowed us to stay for about 30minutes or so. She asked us very kindly to leave so she could make you comfortable. As we walked down the corridor, we met that man whose nephew had been stabbed. This time we shook our head, and he knew, he hugged us all telling us what a great man you are, we said you’re right he is great man. He cried for our loss, we cried for our loss, we told him we will continue to pray for his nephew.

Dad, the strangest feeling happened to me, all of sudden I had the urge to eat or drink something. It had been well over 24hrs since we had anything. Dad, guess what I wanted? That’s right a coffee, in particular a decaf skinny cappuccino! That’s what we all did, all 30 of us, we went to the canteen and ate. You had bought us altogether with the one thing you love eating and drinking.

We came back up to see you, one last time. Omg! How comfortable did you look! You had what looked like kurta, it was white and made out of cotton. It was so you, I remember your pale blue one that you’d wear at home. You always used to relax in them. You liked it because you’d say it was smart, cool and comfortable at the same time. Yet again it this one made you look smart, cool and comfortable all in one go.

We were told you had to be moved so they could clean the area for another patient and that we should say our goodbyes.

Dad, I never nor will I ever say goodbye to you. I whispered in your ear, see you soon dad, (and I also told you not too soon)’.

Miss you dad

25/02/2021

Today is Thursday 25th February, last year this date fell on a Tuesday. I had decided not to come today as Kawal Bubbly and Suman were with you and mum. The girls sending me updates on the hour even if there was no change! And there wasn’t, you were as the nurses called it ‘stable’. Kawal went back to her home, Bubbly and Suman stayed with mum, they left you at about 8:30pm.

It’s now 9:45pm around this time last year we had a family call. Funny how a year later it’s called zoom! I was on loudspeaker via Suman’s phone, Kawal was on loudspeaker via Bubbly’s. They were just discussing the updates of the day with me and what the next steps are to get you better. As we were chatting Bubbly got a call from your doctor. Kawal got disconnected and I stayed on via Suman’s phone. I heard the most terrifying words ‘your dad is deteriorating’, then my phone call disconnected!

I confirmed with Jason what I heard, his eyes, his face just told me my answer. I called Kawal back and told her to get to the hospital as soon as she can. Jason made arrangements with Pavan to come and stay with the children.

Dad, I rushed to be by your side, this will shock you, looking back even I can’t believe it ! I actually came to see you without any makeup! You know me dad. Even if I go to the corner shop or come home to spend the day with you and mum, I’ve always wearing make up!

On the advice of the doctor, Suman and Bubbly called our family and friends. When we got there, Bubbly came out of ICU, crying and saying how sorry she was. I thought the worst! Mum, Suman and Bubbly got there before anyone, when they entered the ICU, the nurse said ‘there was no need to rush’!

We then had to call our family and friends back and explain what had happened and you were still in ICU very poorly but yet again was stable. We worried for their safety as they were rushing to get to the hospital too.

Family started to come and we sat taking it in turns to see you. You looked the same, sleeping peacefully with a good colour. In fact the other 3 patients in the ICU looked more poorly than you.

The doctor came to speak to us about a manoeuvre they wanted to try. A couple of hours had past, it’s about 2am. I asked the doctor when they were thinking of doing this ‘manoeuvre’. They had decided they weren’t because you were ‘stable’ again.

We were told to go home and get some rest again. We left about 5:30am the next morning. I decided to go home with mum and Bubs. Suman and Rob also stayed the night. We all finally fell asleep at about 6:30am.

I woke up suddenly, I thought I had slept for hours ! It was only 8:30am. Bubbly called the hospital and the nurse said there were no changes since we had left you. I stayed lying down on the sofa, knowing that visiting hours isn’t until 2pm.

Less than 30 minutes later the doctor called saying he would like to meet us as soon as possible.

Mum, Bubs and I all get ready, Kawal was going to meet us there too. Suman and Rob stayed at home as your new bedroom carpet was being fitted at 10am. We needed to make sure that your bedroom was completely clean and sterile for when you come home.

24/02/2021

Last year this date was on a Monday, I get to the hospital at about 2:30. Visiting time is between 2pm and 8pm. We are all taking it in turns to see you and speak to you. We know you can hear us. Not just because the doctors told us and it’s comforting to know but because Kawal and puji are in with you, one of your conditions is that your blood pressure is very low! I walk in say my usual ‘hello handsome!’ Puji said ‘Kiran keep talking your dads blood pressure just went up’! Kawal then said, ‘dad your nutcase has arrived’. You were the same ‘stable’ as they kept telling us. At about 4pm, Bubbly, Suman and I go to the canteen to get everyone teas and coffees. The place is empty apart from the barista serving at the counter. She takes our order of 8 drinks. I’m standing in-between Bubbly and Suman. Out of nowhere someone says ‘that’s a lot of drinks’. I look around to see who was talking to us, there next to Suman stood a very elderly lady about 80 years old. I asked her how many drinks she was getting. She told us one. We asked the barista if the lady could be served before us, but she had already started our order. This lady was very grateful for this gesture. She told us she was getting a hot drink for her son who is very poorly. She comes and visits him every day and always buys him a drink before she leaves. She asked who we were visiting. We told her our dad. She asked for your name. I told her it’s Surinder. Then between the 3 of us we told her your situation. We must have been talking for a good 5 minutes. At the end she said, ‘I’m going to say a prayer and light a candle for your dad, Surinder, that’s right, isn’t it? That’s his name?’ And as quickly as she came, she disappeared. We never saw her again I couldn’t believe she remembered your name. I felt, we felt that someone was looking after you.

Outside in the waiting room, we were chatting to our fuffer ji’s having a giggle just how you’d want us to be, not ‘miserable’ as you would say, because of you we got to know them so much more dad.

Dad, you’re not going to believe this though ! Well it’s me, so there’s no surprise there I guess! I asked them the same questions I asked you, dad you would’ve just shook your head apologizing but we also know you’d find it so funny! The replies from them were even more funnier than yours! One Fufferji said ‘I’m not paying for it’ and the other Fufferji said ‘it would not happen; it just wouldn’t happen!’. I’ll let you figure out who said what!

Puji, mum and us 4 sat in the canteen while the nurses did their routine checks, it was so surreal, you could tell we all felt worried and even scared, but you’ve always taught us to be positive and that’s what we did. I left at about 6 that evening to Uber it back, I know dad! You would’ve said ‘stop wasting your money I’ll be home soon!’.

Outside of your unit, we made friends with other relatives visiting their loved ones. No matter what your age, race or financial status you’re all in it together, praying for each other’s relative to get better, giving each other a nod, to me this was like code, you’re still poorly but you’re still with us, and you’d wait for their nod back. One man in particular hardly spoke English, but at times like this there’s only one language called hope. Every time we’d meet in the corridors or waiting area he’d ask after you. He was visiting his nephew, a stabbing victim only 25 years old, he was very poorly and fighting for his life.

There was a Sikh family whose loved one was so poorly that the doctors didn’t know what was wrong with her. They gave you an MP3 player so you could listen to hymns. We made friends with the police who were standing outside different ICU’s to protect the victims of crime. They too all hoped and prayed for you to get better. The aura that surrounds you is something words can’t describe. These people who we met in the last few days, they hadn’t seen nor spoken to you, but it felt like we had known them forever.

This is what most people felt with you, and something we’ve just come to realise.

23/02/2021

Dear Dad,

I’m writing this with a heavy heart full of tears. Today, this time last year on a Sunday it’s 23:13 I walked into the Royal London hospital not knowing what I was to be faced with. Leaving the children at home with Pavan, we got the phone call telling us that you had come out of your 2nd emergency operation (3rd in 3 days) and that you’re in recovery, the doctors didn’t know what to expect. 2 days prior to this you had your scheduled operation, then an emergency operation to correct the first and now a 2nd emergency operation still trying to correct what went wrong! We were only allowed 2 at time at your bedside, we all took it in turns to see you, mum never left your side, regardless of the many machines you were hooked on you looked like you were sleeping, you had a good colour on you. In fact you were fighting to stay with us. We were all there including our Puji’s, fufferji’s, ,Masi’s, MJ and cousins. Dad we joked and laughed and cried sitting in that waiting room, because we too didn’t know what to expect, they told us you were poorly, but we had seen you poorly before and deep down with thought you’d be ok. The doctors told us to go home and rest as you were now stable, lying in there in the ICU we left you at about 2am feeling confident.

We had decided that Jason would drive your car home with mum. I’d follow in Jason’s car with bubbly sitting with me. We both laughed and were a bit scared as I didn’t know how to use the electrics in there. I was pressing all sorts of buttons trying to get the mirrors where I wanted them . I ended up driving with the wing mirrors inwards. We needed a giggle after what we had been through.

Thanks dad that was the first time I’d driven Jason’s car!

18/02/2021

Dear Dad,

‘If’ is such a small word, but why does it mean so much ?

If only I knew that today a year ago was the last time we’d meet. Would I have dressed up a bit more?

If only I knew that today a year ago was the last time we’d talk. I always bombarded you questions, did I really know everything about you?

If only I knew that today a year ago was the last time I would make dinner for you. Did the pronta hit the spot!

If only I knew that today a year ago was the last time we’d take our last selfie together. Should I have acted more ‘grown up’ and not made silly faces 😜?

I came to sit with the children while you and Kawal went to the hospital for your final appointment before your ‘life changing’ operation a few days later. Little did we know ‘ life changing’ for you, for us and anyone that knew you!

You left at 1 and came back at just after 7 that evening. You looked tired but you definitely came back with a spring in your step, excited even. I hugged you and could smell your favourite aftershave Joop. I remember telling you that you looked smart and how nice you smelt. I was teasing you about your nurses. You just said, ‘oh darling’.

Mum had cooked our dinner before her shift at work, the children all asked for pronates and you jumped on this opportunity too. You all sat down while I made hot fresh prontas to accompany your dinner.

Dad, you asked me to put ajwain (carom seeds) in yours! I was like don’t ruin my prontas.

‘Just try one, and you’ll love it’ is what you said to me. I rolled out the dough, spread the slightest of butter and sprinkled ajwain. Kawal comes along takes a look and said that’s not enough, so I sprinkle some more and more and more, until you couldn’t see the dough nor the butter!

You loved it! And another thing you are known for, is putting extra food on other people’s plate( you say it’s about being a good host; this is one of your most famous traits, a skill you’ve mastered. You would always be able to give the person sitting next you another samosa or roti, ‘go on, one more’ you’d say, that poor person after eating their meal can hardly stand up straight from the ‘one more’ but you’d get away being stuffed yourself! ) All the children were given a bit of your pronta to try! And no, they didn’t like it. When I came back to join you at the dinner table, without a doubt on my plate was a piece of your ajwain pronta too.

And no, I didn’t like it either ! You then gave me another piece to try saying this bit will taste better, and I still didn’t like it. I told you that if we keep trying different mouthfuls of your pronta it’ll be finished!

Afterwards we all ate the remainder of Niam’s birthday cake which I bought with me. You even fed him his cake which nobody else was able to do!

Later that evening the fun and games began!

Do you remember the game Vinay wanted us to play? It was a simple straightforward game ! What could go wrong ? He asked us to draw something that flies, and then to make paper aeroplanes and see whose goes the furthest.

Simple enough that even Niam was able to join in!

You, Kawal, the kids and me were busy drawing, to be honest I actually can’t remember what any of us drew except Kawal’s ‘butterfly’. Well we both know it didn’t look like a butterfly to start with.

Dad, I was literally screaming and shouting WT…. are you drawing? You very casually looked up, saw her drawing, kept your cool and calm composure and said nothing! Dad you’re sitting at the head of the table, Kawal and I either side of you. I am still shouting ‘change it change it’. Kawal tries only to make things worse. She’s shouting back at me ‘leave my butterfly alone’.

Let’s put it another way you’d think she was drawing a particular part of a man! She then drew what resembled ’tadpoles’ shooting out! She claims it was flames! 🙄

We then made our aeroplanes stood in a line and threw them as hard and as fast as we could.

On the way home Jay said to me ‘mummy, I don’t know what Kawal Masi was thinking, but I DO KNOW WHAT SHE WAS THINKING!’

If only we kept your last drawing, your last paper plane. I know Kawal searched everywhere, behind the radiator, in Vinay’s box of his paper planes. Just like that it’s gone!

If……

Miss these days, miss you Dad

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Who is Surinder Singh Sagoo