My son died on Friday.
It wasn't anybody's fault. He'd had enough pain and distress and chose his own time to go. We had three days at home before he had to go back into hospital - things were hard for us but this time they got it right for him. We stayed with him and were allowed to do the bulk of his care, his own nurses came in and were a massive help.
I don't know where this leaves me yet, and to be honest, it doesn't worry me. For now, all I'm interested in is getting him settled, sorting out his affairs and remembering him - not in that order. We've had some good times going through his photographs and talking about the things we did. And we've cried a lot.
He was a big part of our lives, still is and always will be.