Tom: the following is a guest post by Pauline Sabin, owner of Word Dynamics. It is one of the most touching pieces of writing I have ever read, and I think the moral within it is clear to all of us. Thank you for allowing me to share this Pauline.
You’ll Never Walk Alone is also the song that we played at my Dad’s funeral in January this year.
On 5th December 2013 we received the news we never wanted to hear — Dad had terminal, inoperable cancer in his lungs and liver. We later found that the tumours had also spread to his brain.
We were told we would have around two months with Dad. As it turned out, we had exactly 37 days.
When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don’t be afraid of the dark
Nothing prepares you for the loss of a loved one. I knew Dad was going to be leaving us, but I wasn’t prepared for it. I thought I had accepted it was going to happen, but when the moment actually came, I wasn’t ready to accept it at all.
Losing Dad was a double blow — a week before we found out he had cancer, I lost my job. I was made redundant. I knew the redundancy was coming, so it was no great surprise, but it was still a massive blow to my ego when it finally happened.
So there I was, unemployed, dealing with the imminent death of my wonderful father and trying to get my plan together for exactly how I was going to replace my lost income. The money may have stopped rolling in but the cash sure kept rolling out.
My plan was to start my own content writing business, but it’s damn hard to find the drive to focus on setting up a new business when all of your emotional energy is focussed on someone who has been a central figure in your life forever.
So this is what I did.
I gave myself a break. I told myself it was okay for the business to start up a few months later than I’d planned. (Due to a decent redundancy settlement, I was financially able to do this.) It may seem like a small thing, but it was amazing how much the pressure lifted once I’d agreed with myself that I could take a break first. Of course I was always going to put my Dad ahead of anything else, but knowing that my business was on hold for a few months meant it wasn’t distracting me from more important issues. I’m not saying I didn’t think about my business for two months — of course I did — but if I did or I didn’t, both were okay with me.
I learned how to deal with losing Dad. Dad’s death doesn’t define me. I talk to Dad every day, telling him what’s happening in my life and how mum is coping without him. I think he enjoys our little chats as much as I do, even if they are a little one-sided.
I gained strength from the support of friends and family. Thanks to the amazing support of my husband, brother, mum and friends, I have shared lots of laughter, many tears and loads of love. It really is important to talk.
I chose to get started. When my two months break was up, I got stuck in to it. It does take a certain amount of mental toughness but I know the last thing Dad would want would be for me to drift around with no real plan of action. So I started really focussing on exactly what my content writing business was going to be about and how my story was going to unfold.
I found my confidence. Day by day my content evolved, my website started to take shape and I started to feel super-confident that I was doing the right thing. When doubts start to creep in, as they do from time to time, I tell myself to hold my head up high and not be afraid of the dark.
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on with hope in your heart
Some people say I am very unfortunate to have lost my job and my father in the space of a few short weeks.
I say I am very lucky.
Lucky that I was able to spend time with my Dad before we lost him.
Incredibly lucky and privileged to be with Dad and holding his hand at the end.
Lucky that Dad died at home with his loved ones around him.
Lucky that I had a wonderful Christmas with both Mum and Dad, and that we were able to share lots of love and laughter on that day.
Lucky that I had plenty of time to plan for my departure from my job.
At the end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of the lark
I wish I could say that my golden sky has arrived, but it hasn’t — not yet at least. Losing Dad has been very difficult, but life does go on as they say and so I’ve done just that. Just the way I know Dad would want me to.
My website is launched and I’m now writing for a living! Well, okay, maybe not a living — I still have a long way to go to replace my previous income. I’m in the very early stages of my business, but it’s what I love doing.
There are a lot of things in life that you can’t control — but what you can control is your approach to life and how you deal with the blows it deals to you. Losing Dad is the hardest thing that has ever happened to me; it’s a very personal thing and something that I think everyone deals with in whatever way they can.
One thing is for sure though: our loved ones do not want our lives to stop just because theirs has. I still want to make my Dad proud, and I’m on my way to doing just that.
Walk on Dad, walk on — You’ll Never Walk Alone.
