💌 A gentle note before you read: This post is a little more personal than usual. I’ve been spending time with my Dad as he approaches the end of his life, and I wanted to share some reflections that feel important. Death can feel like an awkward topic, but my hope in writing this is to bring a bit of openness, warmth, and connection. If you’d rather skip this one, that’s absolutely fine — and if you do read on, I hope you find something here that resonates.
I’ve been a bit quiet over the last few months and today, I find myself at home with a little space to breathe, think, and write. The People Soup Podcast is currently on an extended break, and I’m gently easing myself back into work, which includes setting up conversations and developing the offer for my next Small Group Supervision cohorts.
The main reason for my silence is that I’ve been spending a lot of time with my dear Dad (AKA Big G) as he navigates his final life transition. We all have limited energy and resources, and I recognised that some of my work activities needed to pause for a while.
After the joyful celebrations for his 90th birthday in May, Dad’s health declined quite rapidly. He’s still with us, and was very chatty in our morning call today, when he was enjoying a sip of tea and talking about what he’d seen from the window as the town woke up.
I arrived home from my latest trip to see him just four days ago and spent the first couple of days doing little more than sleeping and eating good food. Now I’m gradually returning to work while planning my next visit. My work continues to hold such meaning for me, and Dad is still so proud and interested in what I’m doing.
We’ve shared some big conversations — perhaps the biggest conversations one human can have with another. I don’t have any profound revelations or advice to offer. For me, these conversations are a bit like entering an unfamiliar, poorly lit room. We step into this space together and rest there for a while — sharing words, memories, and reflections, supporting each other — and then, by mutual agreement, we step back out into the corridor of everyday routines. Each return to the room feels a little more familiar. We revisit old themes, uncover new insights, and, alongside the sadness, there’s deep appreciation and even humour.
On one of our recent visits to that room, Dad asked me if I get nervous before delivering a workshop. My answer was: “hell yeah — sometimes more than others!” That led me to reflect on the values I try to bring into my work, and how many of those qualities are gifts from both Mum and Dad.
I wrote them down on a little card for him, which he keeps nearby.
The values were:
- Kindness
- Humour and Fun
- Generosity
- Courage
- Creativity
- Curiosity and Learning
I’m sure I’ll write more about these values in future posts, but for now, I just wanted to share them — along with my gratitude for my Dad — more widely.
One other thing I’ve noticed is that we’re not very good at talking about death. I learned a lot through being with my Mum at the end of her life, and being with Dad has brought more reflections. I think we could speak about our experiences more openly. Sometimes it feels like people see it as an off-limits topic, which is odd, really, since it comes to us all. Grief is a common thread that unites us as humans, and if we can begin to normalise it, perhaps we can lighten our collective burden just a little. Having someone who simply listens is such a gift — and it’s a skill we can all nurture.
Before I stray into a whole other blog topic, I’ll sign off here. Take care, folks — and if these reflections resonate with you, or spark something about your own values and how they guide your work and wellbeing, I’d love to hear from you. Connection and conversation are always welcome.
I’ve found the following resources really useful –
Book: “With the End in Mind: Dying, Death and Wisdom in an Age of Denial.” by Kathryn Mannix
Website –https://mygriefmyway.co.uk/
