The death of my father, by far. He was in hospital for some minor problems. He told me I wouldn't have to visit him everyday as he'd leave in two days anyway. I told him that I'd still return next day as I love him. That evening my mother was asked for a meeting next day, she ... didn't get the hint that the meeting was going to be in the ICU. They told her he'd die "soon" and there was no hope. My father agreed to let him die in peace and told my mother to leave, he wanted to sleep.

She drove directly to me and informed me. Directly after she left I called the hospital and asked what "soon" means - hours? days? weeks? They replied he had died 5 minutes before my call, 25 hours after I had seen him for the last time, 24 hours after he had called for help and been sent to ICU. I visited my father a last time, trying to understand. Only then I learnt about cancer and the background. In the end my parents knew he had cancer but was thought to be cured, and my mother didn't know neither if he knew about cancer return and if he was aware he had lost the fight. But when we finally thought we should have asked the hospital, we knew it was already way too late for them to remember. We'll never know, there are puzzle pieces in both directions.

Mind you: He isn't the first close relative I lost. He isn't the first dead I saw, heck I had even a loved one die in my hands. But nothing caught me nearly as much off guard as his loss. I measure my blood pressure every morning, you can see the influence for three months.