Sunday 6 February 2022. All day

I’m scared and sad because my father is in hospital. The blood around his heart is running slower than normal, which means he is at high risk of blood clots and a heart attack. It’s been discovered very early, and he’s receiving excellent care at the Academic Hospital in Uppsala. Thanks to this discovery he may live a longer, safer and healthier life, with medicine and regular check-ups. All in all, it’s a god thing.

But it’s still scary and sad, as this is not the last time he spends time in hospital, and that I get worried about him. We’re on that road now, however long and winding it may turn out to be. One day, which suddenly feels nearer, it will happen.

Pappa knows that I love him, and he knows that I know that he loves me. We still argue and carry anger towards each other at times, but if the end was to come to either of us today, the important things would not be left unsaid. That is a comfort.

He told me that when he first was examined by doctors in A&E, and they were trying to figure out what was happening, he got scared and thought of us; mum, me, and my sister. And, he said, what made him sad in the face of potential death wasn’t that he would never see us again, but that we would be sad if he died. The last thing he wanted, was for us to be sad.

That feels like a love so big I almost don’t know what to do with it. I also don’t know how to comfort him in that worry, because the truth is that I will be sad when that happens. In fact, I’m sad already for having been warned about what will one day happen.

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