Carlos Alcaraz had just beaten Alexander Zverev three sets to two. Mum and I watched the awards presentation and then both went to bed. Lights were out, and I was flirting with the idea of trying to get some sleep when around 4:00 am, Mum came into my room and turned the light on.
"Your father has just passed away," she said.
I had been expecting this moment for a long time, particularly the last four years, but now that it was upon me, I didn't know how to react. Mum came and sat on my bed, and in between tears, she told me he had had a fall and hit his head. I just couldn't believe it. Even though my father, as I knew him, had died years ago as the dementia invaded his body and soul, I could not believe that he was no longer alive.
Both Mum and I had been taking calls on a regular basis from his nursing home, telling us when he had had a fall, and Mum said when she answered the call this morning, she expected it to be another routine notification. She then told me how the nurse broke the news to her. Apparently, she introduced herself and then simply said, "I am calling to let you know that your husband has just passed away." No gentle, soft lead-in, just straight to the point.
She then told Mum that the police were there, which confused Mum because she had no idea what they meant by that. We both decided we would go to the nursing home straight away to see what was going on.
Dad's nursing home is in North Adelaide, so it didn't take long for us to get there at around 4:30 am. There was an ambulance with four police officers waiting at the entrance. I couldn't see the paramedics, but they must have been there.
The police officers all looked so young — three young men and one woman. When I saw them, I thought about how most of the police officers I see are young. I don't think I've ever seen an older one. Maybe they get burnt out as they get older and go into different careers.
Anyway, we walked past them, and someone let us into the nursing home. It was quite dark, and there wasn't a lot of noise. Everyone was still asleep. There was a little room near Dad's room with chairs and a table, so we went and sat in there, waiting for someone to come and speak to us.
One of the very young police officers approached us and started asking a series of questions. He asked about Dad's health leading up to today, if we were expecting him to pass away, and how long he had been in the nursing home. It was literally like he was interrogating us. I was just sitting there thinking, "What the fuck is going on here? My Dad has just died, and you are treating us, especially my mother, like criminals."
Mum was good; she was quite teary, but she told them about his long history of falls and how we had been expecting him to pass for a long time. Then a very nice young officer came and spoke to us. He told us that Dad's death was unexplained and unexpected, and they needed to investigate on behalf of the coroner. He talked about wanting to find out whether Dad fell and hit his head or if he had a medical episode and then hit his head.
He told us that there would be a full coronial investigation and potentially an autopsy. There seemed to be boxes they had to tick, like questioning the family, and they were treating his room like a crime scene.
I had seen three male officers and a woman out front, but only the three males were inside. There was an officer standing outside Dad's door, and it was an interesting scenario because there was a police presence, but as the early risers started to wake up, there were also two or three people with dementia walking around. They would talk to us and the police officers, asking mostly incomprehensible questions. The police officers were quite nice about it.
While it was still dark, there were a whole host of lights on, and then all the lights went out for a moment. For a split second, I thought, "Was that Dad?"
There was one police officer who was particularly nice and answered all of our questions. He sounded like he could have worked for any government department, delivering their information and message to the public with confidence and ease. A couple of them said to us that it was lovely to meet us and that they wished they could have met us under different circumstances. That really made me laugh because it sounded like they had learned at police college how to work the room.
I asked one of the officers if we could go in and see him. The officer said we could, but he wanted to make sure Dad looked okay before we went in. He eventually came and got Mum and me, and he and another officer led us into Dad's room.
He was lying on the floor with a white sheet covering his whole body. One of the police officers then pulled the sheet down, and there he was. It was one of the strangest and most profound experiences of my entire life. I have no words to describe what it was like to see my father lying on the floor, completely inanimate. I had my hand on Mum's arm, and I know the look on my face was absolute disbelief.
He had a big wound on his head from the fall, and there was quite a bit of blood which hadn't been cleaned up. Mum was crying a little bit, and I asked the police officer if I could see him from another angle because from where we were standing, we were seeing him upside down. I moved so I could see him upright, and it was just so hard to believe. It all seemed to happen so quickly; there wasn't enough time to think all the thoughts I wanted to think.
We left the room and went and sat back down, and Mum wanted to wait for a nurse who had been very good to us. The police came back and told us that a crime scene photographer was going to come and take photos of Dad, and then his body would be taken to the forensic science centre.
I feel quite bad because I didn't like being there. It felt like a crime scene, which I think, in essence, it was. I wanted to leave and sort of said to Mum that I might catch an Uber home, but then I decided I would not leave her there alone. Our favourite nurse, Jack, came to see us. He told us that a number of the staff were crying because they were so sad about Dad's passing. We talked to him for a while, and then the police came back and spoke to us about what was going to happen next.
I asked them if they suspected any foul play and if that was a reason for all of this, and they said absolutely not.
I asked the police officer if I could go back in to see him because when we first went in, I forgot to think about things like the soul leaving the body and Dad now being in the process of becoming a star. So I went back in, and I still couldn't believe it.
I know it probably sounds incredibly immature and juvenile, but I couldn't get over his lifeless body. I was just thinking, "Is this it? Was that it? He won't be back," and even though he'd been gone a long time, it was just so sad to see him like this.
Mum said he looked peaceful, but I disagree. He looked anything but peaceful. He had blood all over his forehead, and he looked stiff, as they say. But I didn't say that to Mum; I didn't want to upset her further.
I was given a second chance to contemplate where Dad might be now, and I had a quick moment to think about those things. But then they told me I had to leave the room. Mum and I waited for his body to be taken away on a trolley, which was also very surreal to see, and then we left.
Mum and I were home by around 8:30 am, and I went to bed. Mum stayed up for a while and notified family and friends. Mum received over 100 messages about Dad's passing, and I received some messages from friends and people who knew Dad too. I received a number of messages from some of my parents' friends who are my age, who I knew a bit. I appreciated their messages and calls, but it was the messages from my few close friends that meant the most.
My dad could be many things. But one thing he definitely was, was a good man. He was also very nice. When I'm telling people this story, I sometimes tell them about how we used to go to the movies a lot. One day, we were sitting in the back row, and a little boy and his mother sat next to Dad. Dad had a bag of Maltesers, and he said to the boy, "I can't eat one of these without seeing if this little boy wants a lolly."
He then went and offered a Malteser to this kid. I looked at the mother, and we both sort of laughed. I just hit Dad on the arm and said, "Dad, that's not really appropriate." He laughed, and the little boy took one of the Maltesers.
It reminded me of how, when he was riddled with dementia at the nursing home, he was sitting in his recliner chair one evening when a carer came in and brought him his dinner. As she gave him his meal, he said to her, "What about you? Would you like some of my dinner? Have a seat and eat dinner with me." Watching him with that carer really strengthened my belief in the human soul.
He had no idea where he was, who he was, or who she was, but he wanted to share his meal with her. While his brain was obstructed with dementia, his kind, beautiful soul was still there.
