“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”

The biggest lesson I learned from my dad?

Today, my dad would have turned 87. I’m a little biased, but to me, he was an extraordinary man. He had a sharp sense of humour, a wise head full of knowledge, and an unwavering loyalty to family and friends. Dad was the kind of person who would travel the length and breadth of the country to support someone in need. Whether they were unwell, having a tough time, paying respects at a funeral, or to celebrate the good times, Dad was always there. I have vivid memories of him consistently making time for others.

Fifteen years ago, Dad suffered a catastrophic brain damage after a heart operation, and in 2020, he succumbed to Covid-19 in the nursing home where he had been receiving 24-hour care.

There were some real moments of shock and sadness during this time. The telephone call from my mum when I was at work to say they couldn’t wake him after the operation and seizures indicated severe brain damage. Asking the consultant, “What can I do to make my dad better?” and being told there was nothing. Visiting my dad in the stroke ward the day his tracheotomy was taken out and realising the extent of the brain damage, then the proceeding call to my mother to prepare her for when she went to visit him later that day. The first nursing home where he was left with a buzzer to call if he needed anything but he did not have the cognitive capability to ever call for help and press the button. The many years of supporting however I could my mother and reassuring her when she was desperate and tearful with the situation and with Dad’s sometimes difficult behaviour, again due to the injury. Or not being able to visit him in those final few days because of Covid restrictions and knowing that he died alone.

These moments were a lot to cope with, and they were undeniably heartbreaking. Yet, they were not the biggest challenge I faced during this time.

The hardest thing, the one that truly challenged my view of humanity, was the lack of visitors during the 10 years Dad spent in the nursing home. For a man who had always put others before himself, the silence of those empty visiting hours was deafening.

This post isn’t about blaming anyone – people have their own lives, their own challenges. It was during these years that Dad taught me a very important lesson.

Dad didn’t do what he did expecting anything in return. He did it because of who he was, and that is so valuable to know when supporting another. It’s a lesson I hold dear. People often say that I’m generous with my time or other resources, and yes, I am – and I expect nothing in return. I do it because of who I am and who my father was.

My best wishes,
Emma xx

P.S. If there’s someone you’ve been meaning to call, contact, or visit, I gently encourage you to do it. Not just for that person, but for the value and support it brings to those around them. It’s immeasurable.