How my dad Bert died

While my mum was living with me, I was able to book a trip back to Finland. This really wasn’t the most sensible thing to do, but I wasn’t really thinking straight. I was on a roll and I had to get things done. My mum was able to look after the cats, but only barely after herself. A neighbour was aware that she was on her own but I should have asked her to check in on her more often. Trouble is, I never liked asking for favours. My mum did cope, but only just. In the meantime, I had a good trip, but it was very stressful, and I came home with a nasty cold. Of course in hindsight, I’m very glad I was able to justify the trip because only two years later, I sustained the ear injury, which marked the end of all trips, both long and short. My general health also deteriorated.

I saw my dad for the last time in 2016, and the following year, my mum died. Two years after my mum’s passing in 2017, my dad died. There was very little I could do. My hyperacusis was the main reason I could no longer travel. Another disaster struck in early 2019 that made it worse. I had major surgery that almost killed me, but that’s for another post. In anticipation of my dad’s physical and mental deterioration, I tried to get him to get me in touch with the social services in Finland. I was contacted by one of his carers who turned out to be a very nice lady and someone who really appreciated my dad a lot. She said she was not really supposed to have favourites, but apparently my dad was such a person to her anyway. I was eternally grateful for her support. She then contacted me when he was poorly and in and out of hospital, and when he died, she got in touch with me straight away. She was quite willing to help me, and so it was decided that she would clear his flat and deal with various issues of a practical nature. Although she didn’t ask for money, when the inheritance came to me, I naturally paid her for her help.

My dad had worked as a press photographer for the Swedish speaking newspaper Hufvudstadsbladet (HBL) for over 30 years, and the obituary was free. I had no idea what to write, and was grateful for some more help from his carer. I designed a camera in lieu of religious symbols since photography was his life long passion. He used to say that he was really a happy amateur photographer and not really a professional at all. He nevertheless earned respect as a photography critic and such. I’m very grateful myself for all the photographs of my mum and from my childhood that he left behind.

With the inheritance money, I was able to make some major improvements to my living conditions, but I also had to pay rent out of pocket for a while. For a couple of years, I felt uplifted by the ability to buy things I really wanted, and Covid passed me by completely while I sat at home, thinking of ways to improve the house and the garden. This kept me really busy. I was fully aware that my general health condition was fast deteriorating, and so the home improvements needed to be done while I still had the stamina for it. In that sense, the timing was just right.  

But after a couple of years when my cat Robin was also gone, I started to miss my family terribly. The transitory nature of life and mortality started to bug me. One moment we are full of life, then suddenly, we are not. I began to rummage through the photos I had left and framed many of them so that I could be surrounded by family. I also felt a bit upset that I had not been able to go through my parents things properly. While I didn’t really want their things, and my dad’s carer sent me a couple of boxes with stuff, there may have been some other items that I should have kept as memorabilia. More than anything, I wanted the photos and documents from the past that concerned me, and worried that some may have gotten lost. I have put a lot of photos up on Flickr. That’s because I won’t be here for much longer, and I have no heirs.