"And When Did You Last See Your Father?" has whizzed through my head so much since I first picked the book up.

I last saw my father standing at the top of a flight of stairs. As I went down the stairs to catch my train I looked back from half way down. Dad had leaned his arm on the wall and his head on his arm trying to catch his breath. His hand was on his walking stick so his body was supported as well as it could be. I knew then that my Dad had aged. He wasn't old but his body was. Dad’s tinted glasses hid his eyes but in his expression I could see how tired he was. I didn't realise how much everything had worn him down.

I tried to call Dad on a Saturday soon after. I was sitting at Chelsea watching our beloved Birmingham in the FA Cup and reminiscing of the days we had stood on the St Andrews terraces. Mum answered and said Dad was in bed ill. Dad had not been well for such a long time - diabetes, high blood pressure and a catalogue of illnesses. A mountain of small white pills and injenctions had been taken to control them but still they had taken their toll on him. I didn't realise how much everything had worn him down.

I spoke to Dad the following Monday on my way to work. 'I am fine' he said. I almost believed him. I said he should go to the doctors and he said again that he was ok. His voice was shaky but since Mum had been diagnosed with cancer the previous year that had become normal. Mum getting cancer was hitting him as hard as any of us. I never thought. I didn't realise how much everything had worn him down.

I never saw Dad the day he died. He was in hospital but didn't want me travelling back to see him until the morning. That decision will haunt me until the day I too take my last breath. Looking at Dad's death certificate a whole list of contributory factors are listed. I don't know what most of them mean. I didn't realise how much everything had worn him down.