Dempster Tyrie

Des Tyrie
16 June 2008
64
Retired
Tinto Crescent, Wishaw
Survived by 5 Brothers and 2 Sisters
Passed away in his own time in hospital

Uncle Des - You always treated me more like a daughter than a niece, so much so that whenever anyone asked who I was, the first question I was asked was "Are you big Des' daughter?"

Know the length of Wishaw, or as far as you could stagger, many people had good words to say about you. I always remember sitting with you in the pub having a coke, while Mum and Gran went to the Market.

You used to take me on the annual trip to Ayr, organised my the Market Bar.

I used to think that you were a TV star cause I thought you looked like the guy who played John Walton in the Waltons and I often wondered how you could be in 2 places at the one time - in the kitchen making soup and on the TV.

You helped me to develop by giving me wee tasks like counting your money and working out how much £5 less £2.50 was.

As I got older, though, the rose tint started to fall from my eyes, you weren't perfect. I started to notice that you liked a drink and that you changed somtimes to this man I didn't know.

When you had your accident, after Gran died, I used to visit you in the Southern General. It was hard for me to see you helpless, unable to do most things for yourself. You worked on getting better and fitter so you could come home but when you left hospital I saw how much your limitations were getting you down and rather than doing something to change that you started making life difficult for others around you. Still it was me who could coax you round.

The years passed and you spent time in and out of hospital and your mobility and mood started to go down hill. You enjoyed getting out when you could, for my engagement party, Uncle Billy's engagement party, Martin's 30th birthday but it was a struggle.

The last few weeks you spent in hospital we visited everyday and I watched your spirits drop. When they thought you had had a stoke we had been prepared for the worst but, when we went into see you, there you were sitting as if nothing had happened. You perked up, and although you had some memory gaps, you were complaining about how underpaid the nursing staff were!!

You came home but no sooner were you there than you were back in again and this time I, and I think we all, knew it was different.

The call came again that you were bad and we rushed to the hospital. Surrounded by medical staff we stood and watched as they tried to figure out what was wrong. You of course, then regained conciousness and looked around as if to say " What the hell's going on here then?" You were asked and consented to any assistance necessary and that was the last time we got to properly talk.

For the next 2 weeks we visited on a daily basis, Uncle Billy in the afternoon and me at night. Martin came too when he could. The last weekend you spent in hospital I knew it didn't look good. When I visited on the Sunday afternoon I told you if it was too hard for you to fight that it was ok. On the Monday morning we got the call to come to the hospital for the final time. We all spent the day with you and I held your hand as you finally passed. Your long fight was over

Now you are at peace, with your mum, dad and nephew.

You will be missed but I'm glad that you're not suffering anymore.

Love you always - The Wean.