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The last conversation I had with my dear old Dad, before he became too ill to talk, was about him getting meals on wheels and I remember telling him that it was a bit like his war-time experiences when food was being rashioned. About a week later, I was nursing him at his bedside in hospital as he faded away and left us. Our last communication together was very beautiful and he smiled at me a few times and I told him not to worry about anything; just relax and go to sleep now (they had just given him morphine) and I would make sure that Mum would be well taken care of. He smiled one final sweet smile to me before he lapsed into final unconsciousness and passed on. My dear old Dad, we'd both been through a lot and yet we both loved each other at the end. His comments about him getting meals on wheels just before he was admitted to hospital was brought back home to me the other day when I read on this forum about Maharaji getting the chefs who cook for the stars to cook for him. I don't need to say any more, do I? My dear old Dad, he was still trying to look after my mother even when he was on his last legs. You cannot compare a King like him to a very, very small man like Maharaji.
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