After rushing to my fathers side at his house last Tuesday because we were told my father wasn't going to live for too much longer, I am currently on the train from Weymouth to Hove after saying goodbye 5 days later. Why hang on for so long? He never accepted what was going to happen, and was only diagnosed 5 months ago. He hasn't died, but he's pretty much unconcious, heavily medicated and looks like a skeleton. I couldn't cope anymore. I ran. I wanted to stay until he drew his last breath but after breaking down in front of the wonderful nurses from Marie Curie, they said that I should not feel bad for not being able to watch anymore, it's very difficult, dad had already gone and would he want me to sit there watching him die? I kissed his head, told him I loved him and said goodbye to my darling dad. 5 really tough days and I am heartbroken that I will never see him again. My lovely children will never see their grandad again. My mum died from cancer when I was 8 and now at 41, I am about to lose my biggest hero. I have a step mum and step family that my brother and I never got used to, so extra strain there. 2 of them are borderline psychopaths that lie a lot, so that part of it will not be missed, but there is about to be one hell of a fight over the will. This will continue to be and that was one of the bravest and scariest things I have ever done. And by far the hardest. Now I just have to wait for the phonecall.