My Dad was diagnosed with rare liver tract cancer in September. He was initially given 2 months but after being referred to the chief in oncology was given 10 months. Then told he might go into remission. Unfortunately none of the last two were correct. He died on the 23 November. It was the worst experience of my life. Nobody told us what the end would be like inspite of him being in s hospice. Nobody told us on a daily basis what his condition was that day. We were left to deal and cope and support my poor Mum every time we were with him watching the horror of his passing. In the last 7 days we did s 24 hour vigil.Mum didn't want him on his own . I got my children up from London and Edinburgh and Dundee to see him luckily before he lost consciousness. Nobody told us this might happen. We sat at his bedside for 6 days trying to find some recognition or sign he knew we were there. He was so thin and then as my mum sat with him one Thursday night he stopped breathing, Taken from us so cruelly. He ran marathons, climbed mountains, never smoked or drank. Was 71....not old I don't think . But he was my beautiful Dad, I don't know if my mum will ever get over this. They were married 51 years. Together 53. They did everything together. Not many friends apart from family were needed. Mum has been offered councilimg but possibly 5 weeks away...really? She is heartbroken now . The community McMillan support was fairly poor. She visited Dad one day and all I can take away from her visit was what she was doing over the weekend.. hope the charity meal that she needs to do fancy dress for went ok and she had s nice cycle and pub meal on the Sunday while we sat with Mum and Dad. My sister stayed overnight to give Mum a break and a bereavement councillor came in . She found my sister crying. She gave her tissues and patted her on the shoulder. Said she'd be vack in a few mins and wasn't seen again. We had a quiet room to use at the hospice but every time we went in radio 2 was on?? Very strange. We quickly switched it off. We did meet some very caring people for our Dad. And a few who would introduce themselves. On the whole though it was s stark and lonely time. And now he's gone it's even worse. Nobody other than ourselves to pulll us through this emptiness. We can only hope we get to the top of one of Dads hills again and look down on the grief we will have hopefully conquered.