his last dance

“It was past visiting hours but the nurse on duty still allowed me onto the ward to see my father. It was on the promise that I would only stay for a maximum of 10 minutes. Dad had been recently admitted because his dementia had become completely unmanageable at home.

My sister and I had become his full time carers, whilst still holding down our full time jobs. But over these past months, the stress was taking its toll. Dad was feeling increasingly disorientated and violent. We were exhausted and desperately needed help.

He needed help.

We brought him to the ward and the staff reported that he was not settling in well. He was terrified all the time and didn’t want to stay. It was breaking my heart. Here I was, a grown man of 45, breaking down in tears to leave my father like this.

I was there to bring him an iPod with his favourite music on it. The young nurse on shift had asked me what music he likes, which had surprised me. Of all the questions she could ask me, this has been her first.

Glen Miller Band I had told her.

Without a doubt this was his all time favourite. He had loved them since I was a kid.

As I reached his room door, I could hear that he was distressed. That same young nurse was trying to get him into bed, but he was insisting on leaving the hospital. I paused for a moment and watched through the glass panel on the door.

I didn’t want to go in, incase it distressed him more and he begged me to help him leave. And honestly? I wanted to watch how this nurse would handle such a situation. I had seen some terrible videos of patients being abused in these places.

For as nice as they all seemed, how can you ever really know that you are leaving your loved ones in safe hands? How much can we ever really trust?

My blood began to boil as I watched her pull her phone out of her pocket, thinking What the…?

Was she seriously going to ignore his cries and sit on her phone?? I debated whether to swing open the door and confront her myself, or to get the nurse in charge and report her.

I spun on my heel and headed for the nursing office. She wasn’t going to get away with….

Hold on. Isn’t that…?

That’s Glen Miller. I would know that song anywhere. It’s… yes… Somewhere Over The Rainbow.

I walked quickly back to the door in time to see my father smiling. Beaming, in fact. He was holding out his hand to the young nurse and in the most gentlemanly way, asking her to dance with him.

I could see the tears cloud her eyes just before my own began to blind me. This was my father. This man right here. Moments ago he had been unrecognisable, crying, pleading.

Suddenly the music has transformed him back into his 30 year old self. Into the father I grew up admiring. The one I watched dance with my mother in our living room from when I was barely old enough to walk until I moved out to attend University.

The tears rolled freely down my face as I watched this young nurse put her music-playing-phone back into her pocket and take my father’s hands to dance with him. He was unstable on his feet and barely shuffling, but the smile on his face told of the joy in his heart.

This is why she had asked about music. She knew. She knew how powerful it is. She knew it could bring my father back to joy. To ease his suffering.

I said a silent prayer for them both as I watched this sweet moment play out.

The next morning, I received a phonecall from the charge nurse of the ward. My father has passed away peacefully in his sleep. When they went to assist him in the morning, they found him cold.

I share this story with you today at his funeral, because I never want you to underestimate the power you have inside of you. The power you have to ease suffering in another person.

To bring joy to what may end up being the final moments of their life. To allow them to die with a peaceful heart. I hope when my father closed his eyes that night, he dreamed of dancing in the living room with my mother. I hope that they are together and dancing now.

Thank you all so much for being here today.”