Vale Dad, aka "Robbie"

Here's a tricky blog entry to make.

This is to acknowledge my Dad, known to many as Robbie (and to some, affectionately, as "Rotten Robbie"). He's been battling chronic back pain for most of his adult life, and incurable lung cancer and then a secondary cancer/brain tumor for the past four years.

Dad's been in palliative care for the last month or so and - thanks to some very powerful drugs and even some prescribed nips of red label Scotch - has actually been pain free in recent weeks, which has had the unexpected bonus of seeing a return to his old, witty, cheeky, wicked personality, much to the bemusement of his nurses, visitors and family. He even got to vote in the Federal election this week, and passed away just as polling booths were closing - and we realise he's smirking right now, knowing he's not the only Australian who doesn't yet know the identity of the new Prime Minister!

Thanks to everyone for their ongoing support. My Dad made sure he resettled Mum back into NSW after their 20 year retirement in Perth and, essentially, he went to a better life content that he'd managed to achieve all of this life's goals, and to have had three satisfying months in their beautiful, new abode in Nowra, plus a relatively comfortable last few weeks.

We'll miss you, mate! Happy memories, deep appreciation, and much love.


My Dad, the grey nomad, back in NSW after two decades and watching television. 31 January 2010.