The Lighthouse

I've been thinking about writing this for quite a while.  But final words are hard to find.

To sum up a life.  How can you do that? especially this life.  This life of the greatest of men.  I, as his wife of course would say that.  But I only speak the truth.  A man of honour and humour.  Of kindness and care.  Of interest. Intelligence. Pride.  A gentle giant. Warrior. Leader.  Entertainer.  Friend. Lover.  Strength - unrivalled mental and physical strength.

Father.  Most of all a Father.  A truly great Dad.  Compassionate, understanding, firm, fair, fun and loving. Full of knowledge of so many things - history, literature, sport, film, all sorts of interesting and sometimes obscure facts! an ability to talk to anyone about anything - and always hold his own.

Irreplaceable.

A man of love. Michael gave love to everyone and was loved in return by so many.

I write with joy, love and pride as I think of Michael Alexander Giles and this is the last entry in the Diary of a Fadman. But it is not the last chapter.  His story goes on because his is a light that will never go out.  He wasn't granted his wish.  He didn't get what he wanted.  But he did leave a giant, 6ft 4, size 13 imprint on this world.  And he has two fine young men following his lead.  His story will go on.  In me his widow.  In his two beautiful, courageous sons. His family.  His friends, his colleagues and friends of friends that heard his story and his character; boy did he have such a lot of that!

Michael died at around 11.20am on Monday 29th December 2014, at home, looking into my eyes as I spoke to him, holding his hand, stroking his head with his Mum holding his other hand.  The boys were out - the only day they were away from home over the entire Christmas period.  I think he must of known, he never wanted them to see him suffer, he never wanted them to suffer.  He protected me and the boys our entire life together. Always there with his big strong arms around us.  He always put us first, he made us feel so special.

I miss that.  I miss being special.  I miss my best friend.  My number one fan.  I miss him walking in the house, singing some ridiculous random song or a little ditty he'd obviously spent his entire car journey home from work composing.  I miss him making the house laugh with his gags - no matter how painful some of them were!

Michael's last moments of lucidity were on Christmas morning 2014.  The boys were opening their presents left by "Santa" in the room downstairs we'd made into a bedroom as we couldn't get Michael upstairs.  Michael had been bed bound since coming home from hospital in November and in fact the months preceding in hospital. We tried to get him in a chair; using a hoist but every attempt was too painful, even with copious amounts of morphine. During the present opening ceremony, I delivered a running commentary to Michael as he was in and out of awareness but he was there, he was experiencing the Christmas morning joy by proxy from the boys.

I can't possibly describe how absolutely painful and utterly heart breaking it is to watch the person you love be reduced to such poor quality of life.  To be in such pain and as he did in the last months of his life, lose the use of his lower body.  With no hope of improvement, only death and nothing at all you can do but shield him the best you can and fill him with love. So unjust, so so very wrong.

And despite all of this Michael maintained his valour, his humour and his consideration for others above himself.  We still laughed, we still loved, we still shared beautiful moments.  We got the most inappropriately sized Christmas tree - as we'd done every year previously - squeezed it into the room.  The carers catching their backsides on it every time they came to wash Michael.  Friends visited, I remember a particular sing a long one Saturday afternoon.  Family visited.  We had an unintentional mock Christmas Day earlier in December (in hindsight - glad we were for it). Michael's sister made a cracking dinner, we laughed, we messed about! there was fancy dress involved and games, music, dodgy TV and chocolates.  Hector (our dog) lapping it all up.  The kids all enjoying themselves.

In Michael's last moments I spoke to him. Heartfelt and honest words.  He wasn't able to speak back to me but I knew he was hearing me.  I told him what a great husband he had been, what a wonderful, joyful life we had together, the love he gave me and our wonderful boys, how much we dearly love him.  I told him what a great Dad he was. I promised to raise the boys as I know he hoped to - with respect, strength, decency and honour, a life of possibility, striving to live a full and happy life - as we'd always tried to do previously.  I told him he would be the brightest star in the sky, his light would shine on and from all of us.  I told him he would forever be with me, I told him he would walk in his sons for the rest of their days.  It may sound odd, but the last moments of Michael's life were the most beautiful moments I've ever experienced.  Profound. We shared something that nobody can ever take away and that few experience: the purest of moments.  We shared life, we shared his death and everything in between.

There is so much more to say about Michael's final days, weeks and indeed months - how it went from seemingly good to horrific so quickly. The suffering, the pain, the indignity, quite frankly the horror and maybe one day I will tell the whole story but I don't want Michael to be remembered for what cancer did to him, I want Michael to be remembered for the man he was.  The "Man Mountain" and a man mountain he truly was.

Michael taught us how to live.  To live with joy in our hearts.  To always see the bright side.  To smile through it all.  To be strong.  To be courageous.  Mind over matter.  To be positive even when there really is very little to be positive about - the eternal optimist.  He was right. The truth as we all know but sometimes live as to deny - we will all one day, no longer be here.  Guaranteed.

If you knew Michael, let his life teach you this - to live, show your best side,  shine your light on the universe. Be happy when happiness presents itself, laugh hard and love with an open heart.  These are my learnings too from the experience I have gained as the passenger in this journey and is what I carry as armour into our future. Of course it is not always easy to apply these principles but one must remember to try!  BE THE LIGHTHOUSE.

Michael Giles: Born on the 4th July 1971 Died 29th December 2014.

Thank you for showing us what true love is.

With love and pride Emma, Freddie and Logan.


"There is a light that never goes out"

The pleasure - the privilege was mine.

As Michael taught us - our life goes on.  In this spirit I hope to climb Kilimanjaro in Michael's memory in 2016.  If you wish to, please take a look at my just giving page for more information.

www.justgiving.com/EmmaEGiles