My dear, kind and gentle father passed away a few weeks ago, you may have seen my  post on my personal social media accounts. He was a true gentleman and moral authority, who lived a fulfilling and creative life. Warwick will be dearly missed by his community and especially by his family.

It’s extraordinary that I was present when my father passed suddenly. Mainly because we live on opposite sides of the country, and I’ve only seen my dad for a handful of days in the last 15 months. I have shared the story of our last day here.

He loved to drive and was determined to cross the country in order to visit my sister Mary in Kalgoorlie, and me in south Freo. He had ventured out with my mother, my sister Ang, and their apex caravan. He got sick on the way, and developed pneumonia. He did have some time in hospital in Kalgoorlie, but they released him and he drove with my Mum and sister Ang to my house in Freo.

Mum and Dad were really happy on their last day together, despite being sick with respiratory viruses. My journal entry from that morning describes my shock at how weak and sick dad seemed. I wanted him to stay in bed all day and gave him some books to read. I was a bit dismayed when he got dressed and came to sit with us inside as I wanted him to rest.

I made him up some herbs while he had a nap, his were mostly heart healers and vein tonics. Elderberry, Bilberry, Dong Quai, Gymnema, pleurisy root, hawthorn berries.

  At 5.22 in the afternoon,  Dad was in the hallway. He looked in on my beautiful son. John John smiled at him, Dad smiled back, in the way that he did.  His heart stopped beating. He fell backwards onto the floor, making a giant thud. I jumped into action, calling 000, commencing CPR with the help of my mother. I was surprised at how calm, clear, focused and in control I felt. The paramedics arrived within 8 minutes I think, but it was much too long. I pumped and strained my ears for the sound of sirens I couldn't hear. Willing them to arrive.

I moved to the side so the ambos could take over. The paramedics worked and worked and tried and tried, but they could not bring him back. Their professionalism and empathy was truly amazing.

I could sense a tent like energy structure above Dad’s body. When I became aware of it, I understood it had been there for some time. My heart space opened up and I held the edges of the space in prayer and hope. Some time passed. I reassured my mother. One of the paramedics asked me to reassure my kids. They had been in the side room, half watching grandpa and half watching tv. I didn't want to move from my position, I felt I needed to be where I was, holding, feeling and witnessing these moments.

Later, with the paramedics still working, they tried the defibrillator (not shockable) They tried adrenalin. I found myself leaning forward in a semi child's pose, with my hands on the ground. It felt like extreme nourishment from the Earth, and how I needed to ground at that moment. The Earth felt like home, like she was sending me healing. I could feel it travelling up my arms in a way I’ve never felt before.. All of this was happening via my subconscious, like an alternative consciousness was causing the energy work to happen in the background without my conscious awareness. These things are felt more than they are seen or spelt out. Sometimes it's through reflection after the fact that you gain an understanding of what it was you experienced. In the forefront of my mind, I was holding on to hope, willing my Dad to wake up. I know though, by the second time the paramedic asked me to comfort my children, I could do so.  The transition had completed, The need to maintain my position had faded. I could return to my children and comfort them. I'd held on to hope that whole time. I held onto it still, until they stopped working on Dad, 30 minutes after arrival.

The hours that followed contained a sort of life-splitting grief, while police and the morgue attendants arrived and questioned, photographed, prodded. Hours later, after we'd all gone to bed in the depths of that sleepless night, amidst panic, nausea and shocking grief, I was overcome with immense gratitude that I had seen Dad that day. How his face lit up when he saw the guest room and garden, how honoured I was with the feeling of being in my Dad's presence. To be chosen as the one to help my mother through these unimaginable moments.

Six months earlier, Dad had called. Libby, when I go, can you please look after your Mum

I'd drawn my breath in. Feeling the urgency in this moment where my Dad just wanted to know my Mum would be ok. I exhaled.

Yes Dad

He was reassured.

Now Dad had brought Mum to my home and died in front of me. It felt divinely timed, in a beautiful and very sad way. I wouldn't have belived he'd be gone if you'd told me three months ago. But when he arrived I could see his body just didn't have enough spark to keep going. He'd had enough. It was time for his personal sunset. What a lovely man he was. I'm left with a mixture of acceptance, awe in the beauty of life and death, but mostly loss and worry for my mother and the emptiness she now needs to manage.