Vol 4. The Diary. November 2011

11 November

The phone rang at 3am this morning. It was my middle sister phoning from half way round the world to tell me that my father had died. Dad passed away quietly in his sleep at 1am. Mum pulled the emergency cord and the paramedics came out. The paramedics also called the police. The police asked who should be contacted. Mum said my oldest sister. She also told the police that she didn’t want me to be told.

7am.  I have a call from the police to tell me that my father had died. They had contacted my youngest sister who gave them my phone number. I asked them if mum wanted me to go over. When they asked her I could hear her say, “He can please himself”.

I got dressed and went over to see mum. A very cold reception. According to mum, dad died of bowel cancer. He had been on morphine because the bowel cancer was so painful.

I went down to the undertakers to arrange the funeral. Went I went in a nice young lady dressed in black asked if she could be of help. I said yes, could she help me with my father’s funeral. She said, “No. This is a firm of accountants. The undertakers are next door.”

Found the real undertakers and I arranged the funeral for 2.30pm Friday 25th November.

I also spoke to the coroner, the doctors’ surgery and registrar. Dad died of pneumonia and heart failure. Test results showed no sign of cancer! He was on morphine because of a painful swollen knee. He had been his usual cheerful self, getting himself up and dressed, until yesterday morning when he felt unwell. He stayed in bed and just went downhill until he fell asleep. He opened his eyes at about 1am this morning, looked at mum & died. The end came quickly and peacefully.

My mother is clueless about all financial matters so I brought all dad's papers home to look through. Amongst his papers I found two envelopes one marked "treasures" the other "precious". He had kept and treasured notes and cards that my sisters and I had sent him over the years. One of the most poignant photos was a picture of his youngest sister, my auntie Vera.

14 November

Discovered that dad had a secret bank account in Peterborough. Spent the morning cancelling the benefits dad had been fraudulently claiming over the years from a charity for "Distressed Gentlefolk". Over the years these good people had provided financial support for my parents, including moving expenses, Christmas gifts, clothing, and personal visits. All on the basis that mum and dad were "Distressed" and "Gentlefolk". Neither of which were true

I arranged for the funeral to be broadcast live on the internet. It is to be conducted by the minister of the local Evangelical church.

I booked the Imperial Hotel for afternoon tea from 4pm (sandwiches and cake) and then a family meal at an Italian Restaurant for 7:30pm.

I arranged to take mum to view dad’s body at the undertakers. She wanted to go out and buy dad a new suit for his funeral. After much discussion, I eventually I managed to dissuade her.

I collected the medical certificate from the doctors and made an appointment with the registrar to register dad's death.

Mum says she wants to keep dad's ashes and is going to order a special urn that will, and I kid you not, match her curtains. Spent a long time with her going through the undertakers’ catalogue. The only urn that will match her curtains has to be specially imported from France. She said that when she dies she wants her ashes to be scattered on my grandmother’s grave in Cornwall.

I think I’m turning into my dad. When we were at the undertakers, mum told the undertaker that she was seriously ill with cancer and wouldn't be long in dying herself. Without thinking, I asked if they did a buy one get one free offer. No.. Long discussion on whether she needed limos to follow her hearse.

15 November

Mum's cheered up a lot since I jokingly told her that my eldest sister has invited her for Christmas.

16 November

The minister conducting the funeral came to visit. Mum was on best behaviour whilst he was there. Although when I suggested the hymn, "Thine be the glory" she reinterpreted this as me wanting to give thanks that dad was dead! Minister soon put her straight.

Mum’s niceness is like a fart in wind tunnel.  As soon as the minister went she reverted back to her old self. She had sent a cheque via my sister to my nephew on the birth of his son.

Mum: “I’ve only just received a thank you from him.”

Me: “When you wrote, did you put your address on the letter?”

(Stony look from mum)

Mum: “Your sister should have given him our address.”

Me: “When you wrote to her to pass the cheque on, did you write your address on the letter?”

Mum: “Your middle sister could have given her our address.”

Me: “Are you saying that when you moved, you gave my middle sister your address?”

Mum: “She is the only one who has kept in touch with me.”

Me: “That can’t be true, you haven’t spoken to her for nearly 6 months.”

Mum: (Looking thoughtful and sneering) “Oh yes – she stood up for you all.”

Me: “The four of us stick up for one another.”

Mum: “You never stick up for your father & me.”

Me: “Mum, you moved twice in the last 6 months and told nobody your new address or phone number. There are consequences for that. The consequences are that if you don’t tell anyone your address, you don’t get any visitors or any post.”

Mum: “If you loved us you would have found out where we live”.

Me: “What! You wanted us to hire a private detective? No, mum. If you loved us, you would have told us you were moving and given us your address and phone number. You didn’t.”

Mum: “You don’t know how much your father was hurt by not receiving a thank-you letter.”

Me: “You didn't get a thank you letter, because you didn't tell anyone you'd moved.

Mum: “We wanted a thank you letter!”

Me: (Still remaining calm) “Yes, but you didn’t tell anyone your address for them to send you a thank you letter.”

Mum: “You don’t know how much we’ve given to you kids.”

Me: “We’re grateful, but it always seems that you give in order to get a thank you letter.”

Mum: “Get out of my house. None of you love us”.

Me: (Still remaining calm.)  “To be honest, mum, you’re not the easiest person to get on with. Most of the time we are afraid to phone you or visit you because we never know what sort reception we’re going to get.

Mum: “Oh yes, I suppose I’m such a wicked mother.”

Me: “All I know is that we are all carrying the scars.”

Mum: “I don’t want any of you to come to my funeral, or have anything to do with my funeral. We were planning to move to Tintagel anyway.”

Me: “We will respect that mum. Would you like me to take you to a solicitor so that you can have a will drawn up and appoint the solicitor to be your executor and organise your funeral?”

Mum: “I can go on my own.”

Me: “Do you feel able to deal with the legal stuff and write out cheques? Because you told me you’re a dunce when it comes to anything like that. And anyway, are you saying that you and dad were going to move to Tintagel and not tell us? Again!”

Mum got up and grabbed my cappuccino. (Is she going to throw it over me?) She changes the subject
.

Mum: “I suppose you’ve been talking to your sister?”

Me: “Of course. I speak to all my sisters. We’re family. We’re in constant touch, phone or email.  We tell each other all that goes on.. When I get back home, I will email them and tell them exactly what’s gone on now.”

Mum: “Get out of my house!”

Me: (Still fairly calm). “No, I’m not finished yet. Who would you like to sit with you at the Funeral Service?”

Mum storms into the kitchen. And I follow her.

Me: “There are just a few of things I still have to stay.

Mum: “You’re a wicked man!” Your father and me were united in everything we said and did.”

Me: Yes, we’ve often suspected that you loaded the gun and dad fired it.

Mum: What did you father say to you?

Me: (Calmly) “I’m leaving now.”

She followed me to the front door. I left as quickly as possible in case she threw a dagger in my back. I closed the door. She was still shouting, “What did he said to you?”

Note to self:

Arrange for a First-Aider to be present at the funeral in case there is bloodshed. Warn the Minister that civil war is likely to breakout at the Crematorium.

Back home my blood pressure is sky high.

Wondered about hiring a 7 seat limo to take my sisters and myself to the funeral.  Always fancied a limo with wide screen TV and bar.

17 November 2011

I am in shock. My mother telephoned me today an apologised !!!
I think my sisters are forgiven too, We are all to travel together to the funeral in te same limo.

22 November

My sisters took mother out to buy an outfit for dad's funeral. We had quite a fun time together at her flat, trying on the hats. But I think mum was on her best behaviour because her young grandchildren were there.

 

23 November

Mum phoned me this morning to ask me to go over for a "chat" - an ominous sign. I had arranged for mum to view dad's body at 4pm today. My eldest sister and I went over at about 3pm to see if we could take mum out for a cup of tea, only to find her and my middle sister outside the undertakers. Mum wanted to go in early and it was obvious that my eldest sister and I weren't wanted.

Mum spent about 40 minutes with dad's body. We took her home. Because she kept complaining that she didn't know when the funeral was and didn't know what was happening. I gave her the time table for the day and list of people attending. She went berserk and accused me of taking over. I quietly explained that she had been to the undertakers with me and had met the minister with me and had been involved in all the arrangements. I had told her last week who was attending. She didn't want these people to attend. She didn't know them. I quietly explained how nice it was that these people were taking the trouble to travel down, and go to the expense of staying in a B&B in order to pay their respects to dad. They were representatives of dad's brothers and sisters. I think demonic is the best word to describe her reaction. Her whole face changed. Her eyes became black, just like in a horror film and 60 years worth of venom, anger, jealousy, vindictiveness poured out in a raging torrent. She railed against friends from my youth who had "brainwashed” me. (And dad agreed with her, she said). I was to get out. I looked her straight in the eye and said "No" there were still things we needed to talk about. We all wanted to give a tribute to dad at the service. She went wild! She was not having us speak at the funeral. She didn’t even want us there. I said was going to do a Power Point presentation of photographs of dad. More screaming.

Still screaming vindictiveness she turned her attention to my eldest sister and started screaming at here. I told my sister not to respond or get involved in a screaming match. My middle sister just went into shock. Pointing to my middle sister mother screamed, "She's the only one who loves me". Which I think was news for my middle sister. There was more screaming from mum at me and she beat me on the chest again with her fists. Eventually she rushed out of the room and into the kitchen.

My sisters and I hugged each other and stayed put. Mum then went into her bedroom where she locked the door and refused to speak to us.

I quietly knocked on the door and said mum, we still needed to make some decisions about the funeral. I had hired a limo to take us to the crematorium. Would she like to come with us? The answer was "No" she would go with her "friends." The funeral should be worth watching! Mum said her friends will be there and are going to tell me some "home truths". I think these are the friends she has complained to me about because they take over and try to control her. I think this is the real issue. She is no longer able to control us and she is going cold turkey!

(On a lighter note. Dad was always a one for a bargain and trying to get a discount. When the undertakers dressed dad they found a co-op loyalty card and gave him an £80 discount!)

My sisters and I drove to the Imperial Hotel to make final arrangement for the wake. What a jolly time we had! After several whiskies, we got very loud and laughed a lot. As I was unable to drive, my wife had to get the bus into town and collect us.

Emailed my youngest sister with an update. She phoned my mother.

Sister: Hello Mum, it's me!
Bit of general conversation about her going shopping and how she couldn’t remember what she needed to get & how lonely she was.
Sister: It must be lovely having your three other children with you.
Mum: (pause) You haven't heard then?
Sister: Heard what??
Mum changed the subject to going shopping, then started crying & saying I was organising everything and not telling her anything.
Sister: But you went to the funeral directors with him, didn’t you?
Mum went on about a list I had given her.
Sister: That’s so you don't forget.
Mum started going on about the people who were coming to the funeral
Sister: That’s wonderful that all these people are coming, Dad would love that.
Mum: It's not that, I don't know these people.
My sister tried to explain how far these people are travelling and how lovely for them to come. Mum seemed very quiet. Then my sister realised that mum had put the receiver down on her. 

28 November

We (my wife, our daughter and I) drove to mum’s flat. My eldest sister and her husband came in their car.  My middle sister and her family came in their hired car. Already there were my cousin (my dad’s nephew|) and his wife who had gone into mum’s flat. They were in mum’s good books as was our daughter so she went in too. When they emerged, our daughter informed us that mum was going to the crematorium accompanied by my cousin. We weren’t wanted. However, once the limo arrived my two sisters and I jumped in. It was a very icy drive to the crematorium.

At the crematorium mum decided not to wait for the coffin but got my cousin to escort her up the aisle. They sat at on their own at the front on the right, away from the lectern where the minister was to conduct the service. The rest of us followed dad’s coffin. I sat in the front row, with my eldest sister and middle sister next to me. The rest of the congregation sat behind us, so everyone could be seen on the web cam.

Before the service could start, the undertaker politely asked mother to move seats and sit on the other aide of the aisle in front of the Minister. She obediently complied and sat on the end of our row next to my middle sister.

The minister led the service well. My sisters and I read out our happy memories of dad. My wife read my youngest sister’s as she was unable to travel half way round the world to join us. We waved at the camera to her, our daughter in the USA and other members of the family scattered round the world. The only person not watching was my mother, who refused to look at us as we spoke.

  

Eulogy 1

How lucky I am

to have had this kind man

who would give the earth

and all that's it worth

precious moments we shared

most of all he cared

he would give you all that he had

this was my dad.

My favourite memory from the start was doing the picture crossword on the back of the Evening Standard. I wanted to be like my dad. I eventually progressed to the junior crossword puzzles with his help and guidance.

My dad loved playing games; he was a 'mean' draughts player. I don't think I ever won but I got my own back in the end as I used to beat him at Scrabble although he said I cheated because I knew too many 2 letter words which weren't in everyday vocabulary (nice one dad, good try). My dad loved any kind of card game, starting me with the normal snap, 7s, patience (which he knew loads of) to finally the best card game ever - 'Kaluki', which more often than not he would win at, moaning how rotten his cards were, and all the time going for the big 'Kaluki' hand and robbing us of our pennies, which at the end of the night he'd just give it back to us, so he could win it back again another time.

One of my dad’s other favourite pastimes was 'wrestling' on TV not this modern American stuff, but the good ol' English wrestlers like Giant Haystack, Mick McManus Big Daddy, Steve Logan (the good looking one) to name but a few. 12.30 Saturday afternoon we would watch the wresting and laugh at their antics and I look back at those times with great fondness - it was our time together.

I was always happy to be around whenever my aunts & uncles came to stay or we visited them to hear all the stories of when they were young. They laughed and joked and it was fun to hear them all (over and over again). I knew from listening to them I wanted a family like that and I have in my brother and my sisters.

My dad was the best, he always had time for us, always listened, and was always interested in what was going on in our lives. I love him and will miss him and I have wonderful memories of him.

And if you listen very carefully you'll hear his laughter because he's now with his brothers and sisters again.

Love you dad xx

Eulogy 2

When we were kids, we would sit on dad’s shoulders whilst he watched wrestling on T.V.  Armed with a tub of Brilcream and a comb, we would give dad some wicked hair dos.  Later in life this was something both my children would do with their granddad.  Dad would also make us laugh by saying there was something on our hand & then would promptly hold our hand flat & tickle the palm of our hand with one finger.  Or would offer to dry our hair, then holding the towel between two hands would vigorously rub our hair until we felt our head was going to come off whilst laughing at the same time.

Dad would also forever cheat at any card game, but this would mean that rather than concentrating on winning your own game your time was spent watching dad to spot when he was going to cheat!

At mealtimes, Dad was always passing on to someone else’s plate food he didn’t want; this was more often done without the other person’s knowledge.  Many a time you would look at your plate and see a pile of carrots or Brussel sprouts that you know wasn’t there before. 

I remember Dad used to have a second job as a taxi driver, to earn extra money so we could move down to Cornwall.  Whenever possible I would go out with him in the taxi & he would always bring us back sweets after he had finished his shift.

Later in life I was fortunate enough to work with dad for 7 years.Dad retired and I went on maternity leave around the same time.  Dad was the chief accountant and was really well liked, because of his sense of humour and being very approachable.   He was an excellent teacher & taught me so much that I later become his successor’s assistant within the same company. 

Thank you dad for the years of laughter, for always listening to us and for being a terrific dad.

Eulogy 3

My dad was a family man and he would have really appreciated you all being here. I can remember as a boy being taken to visit his brothers and sisters. He wasn’t self-focused. Dad took an interest in other people. He was a good listener.  I know our daughters appreciated the way he remembered things They’d told him, and how he would ask after others.

My youngest sister and our youngest daughter are here with us via the webcast.

Dad took a keen interest in the family tree and had lots of stories about his brothers and sisters.  He kept all the family photos and treasures and passed them on to me.

My earliest memories of dad were of sweets. He had a very sweet tooth. I can remember as a boy of about 6 waiting outside the block of flats where we lived waiting for him to come home on a Friday night because he always brought home a paper bag full of sweets – Smarties, Crunchy bars, Bounties, etc.  When he went to work at Mars, he brought home bags and bags of sweets. (To this day I can’t face eating Milky Ways or opal fruits.)

Cakes were another passion of Dad’s: particularly doughnuts. He was always bringing round bags of doughnuts. I have just found out from our daughte that at school playtime, he used to take in doughnuts to her when she was in Middle School.  He once worked for a baker: delivering bread and cakes and picking up what wasn’t sold. If he took me with him – what a feast we had on the way back!

Dad had a wicked sense of humour.  He didn’t tell jokes but he had a way of saying things that people were never quite sure whether he was joking or not. And it didn’t matter who the person was - shop assistants, supermarket check-out girls, and waitresses. He could say things and often you didn’t know if he was being serious or not. I remember once we nearly got thrown out of a restaurant down in Charleston in Cornwall because of some comment he’d made. I had to explain to the head waiter, that it was a joke.

He was a very conservative eater.  If you tried to get him to taste anything that wasn’t steak & chips he would say, “I’m not eating that foreign muck. Aubergines? I’m not eating aubergines, I’ve had enough of aubergines – that’s all we ate as a boy”. 

Dad liked sharing his food. If you went out for a meal you would discover that no matter how much you ate, your pile of vegetables never seemed to go down because when you weren’t looking he’d slip his vegetables on the plate.  Because he didn’t have teeth, quite often you’d find his steak had appeared on your plate too.  He worked hard all his life to put meat on the plate for his family. I appreciate all that he did for us.

Eulogy 4

Things you should know about granddad

1) He had the best handwriting ever.

2) Amazing with numbers. Last time I saw him, he measured assorted boxes to determine their volume – so we could take lego to his grandson. He could add/subtract/multiply and divide faster than a calculator.

3) When we took off his tie, he would roll it in a neat coil.

4) He never ate a Brussel sprout or carrot - he could slip it across the table and onto my plate in a blink.

5) He cheated at cards.

6) He loved me with donuts.

7) He taught me how to eat cherries and spit out the cherry pit as far as possible.

8) He never showed disappointment in me – even when he had every cause to be.

9) He listened

10) Had patience

11) He would towel-dry my hair when I was a kid and have me falling over and dizzy with laughter.

12) Did I mention he cheated at cards?

13) When I was with him, I always called him daddy. I never grew out of that.

I’ll always be his little girl.

Eulogy 5

It was back in 93, that I happened to find

My Uncle Horace, who was one of a kind.

He made me laugh, where he hid his fags

Inside his sock from my aunty Mags.

Recording what he spent, in his little black book

So he could tell you how much, by having a look.

He was a happy go lucky sort of bloke

With a twinkle in his eye, when telling a joke

After the service, we all gathered outside. Mum’s two friends were there. They seemed nice; we said that they had moved 40 minutes’ drive away and no longer had a reason to come over to where mum lived so they wouldn’t be popping in to visit her again. So no telling off from them!

At the wake, in the Imperial Hotel, the atmosphere in the tea party was lifted by having mum’s grandson and his family there. This was the first time she had seen her grandson’s wife and her two great-grandsons. She loves babies and young children – they don’t answer back. Also she enjoyed meeting her niece and two great-nieces. Mum loved being the centre of attention.

My eldest sister took mum back to the flat they had rented to rest before the evening meal. There she could enjoy the company of the grandchildren. Mum was miffed that the rest of us went back therte too.

The meal at the Italian restaurant was very tense. In the centre of the table was mum. I sat next to her. She completely ignored me the whole evening and she also totally ignored my eldest sister who sat opposite her, refusing to speak to either of us. She would only speak to my cousin and middle sister. However, she did accept the offer of a lift home from my wife and daughter. As mum went to leave, my eldest sister went up to mum to give her a hug. Mum gave her the cold shoulder and turned away, refusing to be touched. After she left, the mood lightened considerably.