Father always knows best, even in death

IT WAS, for me, a sad end to 2014.

My 88-year-old father fell and fractured his hip. With all of his other medical problems, he was inoperable and allowed to die.

In past conversations, Dad had made it clear that he did not want me to attend his funeral. “Visit when I’m alive,” he said. He knew it was a gruelling trip to Los Angeles without the additional emotional overlay of a parent’s death. So I felt I was honouring his wishes and being kind to myself (not to mention my carbon footprint on the earth) to forgo the journey

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