Dads Tool Box

The doctor told me that it was just a matter of days now, not weeks. Dad could go at any time.

Morphine was being fed through a syringe driver which meant he could no longer take food or water through the normal channels. There was no need; his body couldn’t digest it any way. In the end the morphine would kill him not the cancer. I accepted that truth.

He was on a bed in the front room. His breathing was erratic as the morphine flowed through his veins.

I stood beside him and held his hand. Even now he still had a firm grip.

It was one of the first things he told me as a young boy. “When you shake hands son, always give a firm grip. A handshake says a lot about a man.”

He was right. At my first real job interview I shook the man’s hand so hard I could see the pain on his face. But, he commented. “Wow, that’s a handshake you’ve got there son.”

I got the job.

No more handshakes for dad. Mine would be the last grip he ever had.

His eyes opened and he looked at me. He smiled. I wasn’t sure if he recognised me or not. Morphine can play plenty of tricks on the mind.

“Glad you’re here boy.”

I swallowed hard. I wasn’t expecting that. I knelt down close to him and spoke softly.

“What, you thought I’d let you make this journey on your own? No way.”

He gave that grin he always did when he was up to mischief.

“Where’s mum?”

“She’s next door in the kitchen. Want me to get her?”

His hand gripped even tighter.

“Not yet. Need to have a word.”

“Sure dad, what’s up?”

I assumed the morphine was kicking in and he was in another world already.

“My tool box. You know. In the shed. Look after it for me?”

I smiled at him. Here he was dying and he wanted to make sure his tools were being looked after. What a man. He was my hero.

“Course dad. I’ll sort them first thing.”

“Thanks boy. Get mum now.”

I called out for mum. She was there in a flash. We both sat with him and within a minute or two he was gone.

I made mum go to bed soon after. I stayed with him all night. Just me and the old man together in the front room. We talked about everything. From dog racing to politics. To be honest I did all the talking. He just listened.

They took him away early the next morning.

The funeral came and went. Hundreds of people came to pay their respects to a truly great gent.

A few months later I had to go to mums to mend a fencing panel that had blown out during a storm. I went to dads shed. As I entered I remembered his last words to me about his tools. I opened one of the cabinets and there was his old tool bag. With tears in my eyes I put the bag on his old work bench. I opened it. There was a plastic Tesco’s bag inside. Sellotaped to the bag was my name. I put my hand inside the bag and pulled out a handful of bank notes.

There was over five thousand pounds in cash.

There was a note inside. It said. “Use this to make sure Mums looked after.”

I loved my old man!