“perspective

pəˈspɛktɪv/Submit

noun

1. a particular attitude towards or way of regarding something; a point of view.“

Friday 13^th November 2015 – Following the passing of my Father, I drive home alone from Whiston hospital. I arrive home, the television is on and showing the news. Terrorist attacks by suicide bombers and gunmen in Paris leave 130 dead and hundreds wounded.

All I can think about is how I have never felt pain like this before and certainly there is no possible way that I could feel worse than I do right now. For a moment I listen to the news reporters on the TV, and I begin to imagine how I might feel if my Dad had died along with the other 130 innocents at the hands of terrorism in Paris on that very same night.

With this thought comes the realisation that I would assuredly feel considerably worse at this moment, had that been the cause of my Father’s death. My Dad died surrounded by his siblings and myself. The last vision he saw was his beloved daughter by his side. I said ‘I love you’ over and over again to ensure that was the final sound he heard. My hands locked into his hands and in those final moments, John Michael Worthington knew more than anyone else on this earth that he was loved an indescribable amount by the most important people.

In their final moments, I would guess the victims of the Paris attacks were terrified and surrounded by strangers. They were deprived of the company of their families and instead of love, they felt petrified.

I recognise what my Auntie and Uncles are going through and what my Dad previously went through when it came to my Grandma Molly. Dementia has stolen the memory of this beautiful lady. The more I think about it, if I was in their position or it ever got to the stage where my own Father couldn’t remember who I was anymore, I think this would cause me to be more broken than I currently am.

Perspective. It’s all about understanding that regrettably, worse things have happened and will continue to happen to other people every moment of every day. Perspective forces me to acknowledge that no matter how distraught I feel, I am still more fortunate that countless others. I find myself creating horrendous scenarios, or analysing others heart breaking experiences and comparing them to my own in order to put things in perspective. Some people might find this unsettling. These thoughts don’t necessarily comfort me, however they act as a coping mechanism that seems to have helped me get this far.