I flew across the Atlantic to my father’s death bed. He was conscious for a few days, then not. I told him I loved him and I knew he loved me. I forgave him and asked forgiveness. I asked for his blessing. He was unconscious, I waited. He chose the moment when I was alone with him and the hospital chaplain. I was stroking his hand and telling her about my children – his grandchildren. His breathing altered, he died. That was my blessing. The rest of the family came soon after. We splintered afterwards.