‘There was no family there to rub his hand, or say goodbye’ — the pain of knowing my father died alone

Research from the Hospice Foundation shows that 74pc of Irish people would like to die at home, but 23pc of people actually do — it’s something Tom O’Dywer regrets wasn’t an option for his loving father Conor, writes Kirsty Blake Knox

Tom O’Dywer’s father Conor was a genial and gentle man. He had worked as a publican and a taxi driver and came from a large and close-knit family. He loved social interaction and being around other people. All of which makes the final moments of his life even more poignant.

Tom and his family lost their father on April 11, 2020 — as the pandemic hit and successive lockdowns started to take place.

As a consequence of restrictions, they, like many families in the country, were unable to be with their dad in the final moments of his life.

Conor, who lived in Kill in Co Kildare, was 80 years old. He did not have any long-term or underlying health problems but became ill and was admitted to Naas hospital on Tuesday, April 7, 2020.

“Then it was confirmed he was positive with Covid on Thursday, April 9,” Tom says. “He died on the 11th. We were all in a heightened state of fear. And when we heard he had Covid-19, we thought ‘oh, God’ and we thought the end is nigh.”

Tm says the hospital staff were as accommodating as they could be.

“They were really good but we could see they were under pressure too.”

Conor was in a ward with four people, all of whom were positive with Covid-19 and elderly.

That Saturday morning some members of the family had been in to visit him. Conor had been unconscious but stable, and did not wake when his family were around him in hospital.

That night Tom received a call around 11pm saying his father had passed away, on his own, without any family around him.

“You start thinking, ‘What if he woke up that day, and saw no one and thought no one had come to visit him at all,” says Tom.

“I started wondering if he had been able to hear me. That morning I had spoken to him, I squeezed his hand and told him I loved him and I started to wonder if he heard me.”

Conor’s wife, Angela, and their five children gathered in the family home the following day.

“It felt like it wasn’t real. Because none of us had seen him die. No one had been there. And that was sad because he was a big gentle giant and he loved people being around him, and he loved company. And obviously the hospital staff were there, but there was no family to rub his hand, and say goodbye.”

Research, conducted by the Dying Well at Home Programme run by the Hospice Foundation, shows that 74pc of Irish people would like to die at home, but 23pc of people actually do.

Marese Damery, Healthcare Manager for Dying Well at Home Programme, says it’s not always possible for people to die at home for medical or other reasons, under resources or lack of coordination. Or if there are ‘exceptional circumstances’ — such as the pandemic — when Conor passed.

“Where there were positive experiences is where there was good care in the community, good connection between the public health nurse, GP and the palliative care team, and where the families are empowered with information and education,” she says.

She says research shows a positive experience can be ‘empowering’ for families.

“A good death is where someone died with dignity in a place of choosing, and they were not in pain and comfortable and surrounded by the people they wanted to be there,” Ms Damery says.

Earlier this year, the Hospice Foundation held an End of Life Forum to promote essential conversations on dying, death and bereavement.

During the forum they cited research conducted by the Centre for Palliative Care, Death and Dying at Flinders University in Australia.

The researchers had stressed the need for ‘death literacy’ and the importance of allowing the dying person to have essential, albeit at times difficult, conversations, about their death. This ensures they are included in the process which can be of benefit and comfort to them.

The option for a home death, or a death surrounded by loved ones was not feasible for Conor and his son Tom says it was hard not to experience some feelings of anger in relation to this.

“At that time I thought everyone was going through the same thing,” he says. “And I thought some had it worse than me with people looking through nursing home windows and whatnot… There are seven stages of grief and they say that one of them is anger.

“I was angry because of the guy he was, and the way he passed. It just wouldn’t have been the way he wanted it. He was very sentimental and

‘It was sad because my father was a big gentle giant and he loved having people around him’

very close to family…. He loved Christmas and social occasions. He was a big Munster fan — he was originally from Tipp — and loved going to the matches with my brother and sister. He just loved being around people. I was angry that he had missed out on that.”

Conor was a publican and ran a bar called O’Dwyers on Pearse Street. In the mid-1990s, he left the trade and became a taxi driver.

“I think if he had died at home it would have been a huge comfort to all of us,”” says Tom. “My mother and him were devoted to one another.”

Conor had his hip replaced close to a decade before his death, and remained in hospital for several months afterwards. And Angela would diligently go to visit every single day for four or five hours.

“Because of Covid-19 restrictions, she couldn’t see him as often as she wanted to. If he had been at home we would have been able to be around, his grandkids would have been able to be around, and we would have liked to have been there as the person is passing away.”

At a personal level, Tom also would have preferred to see his father in the comfort of his own home so his final image and memory of him would have been positive and comforting.

“I would have liked my last memory of my father to have been of him in his own bed, in his own house, in his favourite set of pyjamas propped up on soft pillows. And you would be reading him a book, rather than tied up to all these tubes. It would have been more comfortable for him, and more comforting for us.”

Because of the restrictions, only a set number of mourners were allowed at the funeral, and the family were not allowed to look at their father once he was reposed at the funeral home.

However, the funeral director agreed to drive the hearse and coffin to the family house so he could return home one final time before being laid to rest.

“So he reversed into the driveway and opened the boot and we all touched the coffin. When we were leaving, all the neighbours on the road stood outside of their houses. That was a nice touch because it was like a guard of honour.”

Only 10 people were allowed into crematoriums at that time and per regulation they had to sit separately.

“My mum was on her own in a pew. And then there were two rows and then me. And it was 10 minutes because there was another one coming in half an hour so they had to be very quick.”

Afterwards they returned to the family home and sat outside in the garden because “we were all too nervous to be in the house together”.

The final stages of Conor’s life were traumatising for the family, and he and his family wish they could have had those final moments with their father.

As a consequence, Tom believes having conversations around death and dying are vital and advises anyone to talk to their loved ones about what their final desires are.

He wishes he could have done so with his father. “It’s an uncomfortable topic but an important one,” he says.