One year ago, on 13 November 2023, my father Robert Pender passed away in Strathcarron Hospice from cancer. It was a long and difficult journey both for my dad, and for those who loved him: his children, his mother, and most of all his wonderful wife Libby.
During that journey, my father put great effort into this blog, keeping it up until he was no longer able from the combined effects of the cancer and his medications. He did so because he believed passionately that sharing his experiences could help others. The first step here is speaking openly about dying, and what it means for the person dying and for those around them.
Beyond this, we may all take different lessons from my father’s journey. For me, there are two that really stand out. First, to focus now, not later, on the things that really matter: for my father, this meant God, Libby, his family and friends. We cannot take our time in this world for granted.
The second lesson I draw is that we have a choice when facing hardship. We can take suffering into our hearts and let it rule us, or we can rejoice in what good remains to us. This does not mean setting aside grief, pain, fear and anger. My dad felt all these things and more. It means taking love, hope and joy where we can, even in the briefest moments and the smallest things. As my father wrote shortly before his death:
As I enter this difficult stage of my life, I must remember that even in the fear of dying, I can still be filled with great joy. This is not the end!
And that is how I remember my father, even in his last days.
But there is another side to the cancer journey: the path to be trodden by those who survive. This is most acute for partners, whose lives are soon just as dominated by the illness as the one they will lose. I cannot tell that story, but from a similar desire to help others – whether you have friends or loved ones going through terminal illness, or are doing so yourself – Libby and her friend Sarah recently recorded this podcast for Strathcarron Hospice. It is deeply candid; sad but also joyful, and occasionally and unexpectedly funny.
Like my father, we hope you find here something that helps you.
Simon