To lose a parent when you are disabled is a particular kind of grief. When my father died, my sense of safety was ripped away
On a cloudy Monday morning in March 2003, my father came into my room to check on me. I felt him pull the blankets up around my neck – something he used to do when I was a child. He lingered for a moment, then quietly left the room. That was the last glimpse I ever had of him.
On that day he took his own life. He had been suffering from sinus cancer for the last four months. A marble-sized tumour was found wedged inside his nasal passage after he began having unexplained nosebleeds in late 2002. He had surgery to remove the tumour and even though it was a success, I could see the huge physical, mental and emotional toll treatment was taking on him.
