Amsterdam
My dad died in January 2009 - had a massive heart attack while on the toilet and fell to the ground, cutting his face open on the concrete corner of a shower enclosure. So when they found him, he was face down in his own blood with his trousers round his ankles.

I wasn't there. I was in a different country but arranged to fly our for the funeral. The baggage handlers went on strike while I was in the air, however, and I got waylaid in Amsterdam for 24 hours.

I missed the funeral. Instead, I walked pointlessly around central Amsterdam in a freezing mist and stayed in an anonymous airport hotel full of other people caught halfway between.

He'd been overjoyed when he found out I was having a book published. But he missed it by six months. The second one was dedicated to him. There might still be a copy of it on his grave, faded and wrinkled now from the weather.
(Brand name, Thu 25 Nov 2010, 19:35, 3 replies)

:(

You've made me sad. I hope things are getting better for you as time passes. It does take a couple of years at least.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Thu 25 Nov 2010, 20:56, closed)

Beautifully sad
I'm drunk and offer a virtual cuddle.

Have a click.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Fri 26 Nov 2010, 1:41, closed)

All the best
Sorry to hear that, obviously not the best of things to have to bear.
( DeadEyeDick, Fri 26 Nov 2010, 4:44, closed)