For as long as I have known my Dad he has been a proud, well groomed, intelligent man. He makes no judgement on others, minds his business and is fiercely loyal to his family and friends. He's a down to earth, honest bloke who has had success gardening, golfing, working in printing & typesetting and raising a family. Our kids scored themselves one hell of a good grandfather. My brother and I hit the jackpot. As I was growing up, my girlfriends all wanted my Dad. I could not figure out why. I got it later. He represented for them, what they didn't have. Stability, reliability and loyalty. They could count on him. I kind of took that for granted as a kid. As we do, eh? Dad's got cancer, the melanoma kind. He's in palliative care now. I'm really present to the fact that my Dad has always been a strong solid bloke. Good grooming has always been important to him. Clean shaven, hair combed, shiny shoes and well pressed shirt. That's my Dad. Being in care comes with a loss of power. There's a lot he can't do anymore. He's in transition to the next phase now. He relies now on his wife of 54 years, my Mum to preserve his dignity. I'm constantly in awe of how she leads in this new phase of her life to love my Dad and do what needs to be done. She's a strong model of resilience and dignity. It's painful to visit someone you love who is in transition. What I know for sure is that we are spiritual beings having a human experience. Our body is merely a skin bag. It's not who we are. I remember viewing my grand father's body in the coffin. I got a fright. First dead body I'd seen. I was 14. My aunt assured me that it was not my Pop. That was just the house he used to live in. I got it. I go visit my Dad and don't see the skin bag he lives in. To me, my Dad is my Dad. That's all. On Sunday I showed him how my nails match my hair colour. That's the kind of thing I would normally do. Lol! I took a hairbrush from his bag and brushed his hair so it sat straight, like it always did. I like my Dad to look good. He likes it too. It's a small thing that makes a wee difference. I know it's really hard for some people to visit and that's ok. Grief impacts us all differently. He understands. He always has. It's painful to see my strong Dad fading before my eyes and I have chosen to be in a space of gratitude for what I've had for 50 years. It still hurts like hell, but I don't suffer while I'm in that space. Pain is inevitable. Suffering is an option. I've surrendered to what is now. There is nothing wrong. It is what it is. To retain one's dignity right to the end is a beautiful gift eh?