“Everyone should get the death my dad got here”

Annie reflects on the care her 93-year-old father, Norman, received at the Isabel Hospice Inpatient Unit (IPU), and the ongoing family support that helped her navigate her grief.

My dad, Norman, was 93 when he died at the Isabel Hospice Inpatient Unit. He was a quiet, private, and honourable man who loved his family, the theatre, music, and his Jewish community. He and my mum, Pamela, were married nearly 70 years. When I watched my parents here, because the care pressure was taken away from Mum and because they could just be together, it was in some ways the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen. It felt like the end of a chapter of a beautiful love story.

Our journey to get to Isabel Hospice was a difficult one. A couple of years ago Dad had a stroke which he really fought his way back from. Then in 2025 he was admitted to hospital with pneumonia and COVID-19 and was very poorly. Dad was absolutely adamant that at this stage he didn’t want his life prolonged, but we felt as a family that he wasn’t always being listened to. He didn’t want to be a burden on my mum at home, so we asked the hospital if a hospice was possible, as I had heard from a friend how much this has helped them recently.

Fortunately, a bed was available for us at Isabel Hospice. The absolute headline word is relief. It was such a relief for all of us -including him – to arrive here. It was going from one world to the extreme opposite in one moment coming through the door. Arriving here and feeling that you could give up the pressure to fight for what Dad wanted, was so huge and the feeling was we can just be his family now.

Before we even arrived, somebody called me, to check in with me, because they were aware Dad was Jewish, and asked ‘is there anything we need to know? Is there anything we need to do differently?’ It was so considerate, and even from that phone call, I trusted Isabel Hospice.

From the moment we arrived, the difference was huge. We came through the door and the first thing that happened, is that he asked to have his bed facing the window so he could see out into the garden and they just said of course, how nice and did it. And that just said it all, it said you’re still a person and this might be nice for you.

Every single detail had been thought of, including the flat where my sister and I could stay. My sister said that with how we were feeling, the smallest thing like forgetting a towel would have tipped us over, but someone had thought of that and everything else. It felt like a hug, to know you’re also being cared for at such a terrible time.

Most of all everything was addressed to Dad. You know, they didn’t talk about him over him to us. They always listened to him first and what he wanted. He had capacity and they listened to him. The staff and volunteers possessed a rare comfort with the reality of end-of-life care. There’s something about how comfortable they are, with dealing with the uncomfortable. The team could handle it, whatever the ‘it’ was, and for us that took some of the fear away.

We spent eight precious days at the hospice before Dad died on 25th May 2025. It sounds really weird to say that I had a special time when my dad was dying, but we actually did. It was me and my mum and dad and sister, back to my original family that I grew up with.

The morning he died, I realised what was happening and I needed to go and call my family to get them here. And there was a nurse who didn’t say anything, but she sat with him and held his hand whilst I made the call – so he wasn’t alone – which I’ll always be grateful for. We all got to be with him when he died, which was incredibly important to my mum.

I actually feel, and maybe I just want to feel this, that when he agreed to come to the hospice, that was a huge gift that he gave to all of us. Because everything I’ve had from Isabel Hospice since then comes from Dad’s decision to come. I feel that that’s a gift he gave me to help me through, even now.

A few months after he died, Isabel Hospice reached out to offer counselling, taking away the barrier of having to ask for help. From July to the following March, I was supported by Emma, a placement counsellor.

The biggest thing is space. It gave me designated time and space to go into whatever I needed. When I’m in a scenario where I’m holding it together for everyone else, it carved out an hour in the week that was just for me. That felt hugely validating, in itself. Emma was amazing, I felt comfortable immediately to talk to her.

I chose to have my sessions at the Inpatient Unit because it felt like a safe space, a place that had really cared for us all. It is beyond massive that you don’t pay for it because counselling is incredibly expensive and therefore not always available to people who need it.

Then at Christmas time, we also attended the Lights of Love remembrance service that Isabel put on. It felt like another gift from Dad and so much thought was put into it. It was exactly what we needed at that time of year and being around other people who were going to experience Christmas very differently.

Looking back on our experience, I want other families to know the profound difference hospice care makes.

We had to lose my dad and I’d rather we didn’t and that he was still here, but coming here gave him the best death he could have, best for him, best for us and the best support in our grief. I’m just so glad that that’s what we did and I have really fond happy memories of the eight days here that I will always have and that time we spent together.

I think everyone should get the death that my dad got here. It shouldn’t be that we were lucky, it should just be the norm.