Tuesday

What a remarkable day.

Lesley’s sister had been alone and barricaded in Dad’s home for a week. Wallowing in his loss, surrounded by his stuff, not eating properly and generally losing the plot. There had been a couple of bright spots but it had been a story of complete meltdown.

One of the bright spots had been the discovery of the jewellery that had been promised to Lesley’s nephew. When it was found not to have been where it had always been Lesley was accused of ‘stealing’ it. Then the staff at Dad’s first nursing home must have stolen or lost it. I didn’t bother asking whether an apology had been issued when it was rediscovered.

Lesley was clearly distracted on our walk with The Dog.

“I’m really worried about her. I’m going to go and see her.”

I struggled to be sympathetic.

“Isn’t this all a performance? Isn’t this her just trying to be more upset than anyone to show she loved him more than anyone?”

No response.

I was going to mention that we were talking about someone who had kept her Dad at arm’s length, who had moved to another country to get away from him, who’d had minimal contact with him for decade or more.

I was going to mention that we were talking about someone who’d had very little regard for her dad’s well-being in his final days. When Lesley had seen him lying in bed convulsed in pain she’d asked the nurse to increase his meds. Her sister had objected. “Don’t drug him up! I want to be able to talk to him!” she’d said. “I want” was far more important to her than “He needs” and she was prepared to let him suffer unnecessarily so she could salve her guilty conscience.

I thought better of it and said nothing.

“Let’s go home so you can get off.”

The Dog and I had no idea how long Lesley would be gone. We did know it wouldn’t be a quick visit and we did know that visits involving Lesley and her sister always take twice as long as expected. We settled down for the long haul. The Dog had been getting used to Lesley being gone for hours on end. Lesley didn’t return until an hour after The Dog’s stress levels let me know she thought she’d been gone too long.

When she got home, Lesley was cool and calm. Her sister had stopped insisting she was “fine” and had admitted she was “a mess”. Lesley had taken her out for lunch. The reflex antagonism against Lesley’s plans for the funeral disappeared. The idea of streaming the service so that family and friends who were too infirm to travel could be involved was back on the table. The eulogy got approved although I doubt Lesley told her it had been me that had written it.

While they were having lunch Lesley had taken a call from the Coroner. She had started her script about the cause of death being mesothelioma and that as that was an industrial disease there would have to be an autopsy, an inquest and possibly litigation.

“Could I interrupt you there please?”

Lesley went on to say that she’d known it was mesothelioma. Even though Dad hadn’t wanted to know, she’d talked him into having a biopsy done at The Hospital in January last year. The diagnosis hadn’t come from a GP. It was a consultant at a hospital. They had put Lesley on to a charity who’d recommended specialist lawyers. They’d gone through Dad’s career and had found that in almost forty years there had only been four when he hadn’t been exposed to asbestos. The lawyers had identified the employer most likely to admit liability then started and settled the action against them.

“Ah, in that case we don’t need an autopsy as he had had  a formal definitive diagnosis in life and we don’t need a formal inquest in court either. Unless you want one of course.”

“No. No need for a hearing.”

“OK. So we’ll just issue a report in due course and I’ll authorise 10 copies of an interim death certificate so you can get on with your arrangements.”

So that was it. All done and dusted far more quickly than expected. All done and dusted because Lesley made the right decisions at the right time all along.

Bloody brilliant!

Author’s Note

My Mum was in a nursing home in the Thames Valley for a year and a half until she passed away in December 2024. My Father-in-law went into the same home the following January. But Lesley’s sister didn’t approve and made the situation so awkward that he had to be moved. He passed away in March 2025. Names and locations have been changed or hidden to protect the identities of those involved.

Image Credit

Original image by Nick Gilmore, 2024