Observations placeholder

The Art of Dying – Drs Peter and Elizabeth Fenwick

The following account is from Les Wilson of something that happened to him 40 years ago, when he was just 21 years old.

My father and I had never got on, and so I left home six months after leaving school at the age of 15. I managed to find work and get myself stabilized in the south of England where I worked in the transport industry. I never visited home in the following five years, nor did I think about the family I had left behind, in Yorkshire.

However, one morning at 7.30 a.m. I was on my way to work as I had done for quite a few years when suddenly I turned right where I always turn left for my workplace, and started heading for London and the north. I could not reason with this, other than I found a sudden urge to visit my home in Yorkshire. I just felt a sudden need to do this.

When I arrived at my parents  front door, Mum came rushing out in tears and threw her arms around me saying, 'Thank God you're here. . . we hadn't a clue where to get in touch, but your Dad is dying of cancer and you're the only one left to see him.'

I went upstairs and, made my peace with my dad, who said that now he had seen all his family he was ready to go, and, next morning, when my elder brother called to see him, he was dead in his bed. I could not explain this phenomenon and it has troubled me ever since.