Message from?

Sunset at Bwlchtocyn


Dad died on a Saturday night, so we couldn't access any of the professionals that are concerned until the Monday. John's first call on the Monday morning was to my parents Solicitor - he and John are joint Executors.

After that John called my parents accountant, Mr E. He has been more than just a professional over the last few years - Mum has been taking her letters into the office to be read to her since her sight got really bad. He has been a friend to my parents.

John told Mr E. that Dad had died on Saturday. There was something of a silence, and then Mr E. said... "You may not believe this, but my clerk R. came in to see me this morning and told me he'd dreamed Mr Mills (Dad) had died over the weekend".

Which makes sense to me - if Dad was going to try and contact us from the Great Beyond, it would be typical for him to make contact through his Accountants.

It went on after too. John didn't have anything fit to wear for a funeral, his only suit was a horrid one bought cheap years ago for work. I was convinced we'd hit lucky in our local Oxfam shop. And we did - perfect fitting suit (even the sleeves fitted - usually much too short), nice white shirt also, and a great tie.

And there was a very elegant navy hat that perfectly matched the navy suit I planned to wear...

Plus we got parking space right outside the shoe shop in The Crescent (practically unheard of!) when we went to buy new slippers for Mum. Conveniently close the the butcher too, Roberts, where we bought a lump of beef to roast (it was delicious and tender).

So I felt looked after, that someone was making sure that we found what we needed when we needed. I realise that may sound odd to some folks, but I'm sure others may recognise this happening in their own lives sometimes.

Dad's funeral was on a Thursday afternoon in St Bridget's Church, West Kirby. It was a perfect summer day, with fluffy white clouds in a blue sky, and the swallows flying overhead. There were red and white roses and pink lilies on his coffin. It was peaceful walking behind the coffin through the churchyard and into the Church.

I hadn't been sure I'd be able to manage to read my Tribute (especially after shaking badly throughout the first hymn), but John was standing by to take over if need be, and Sarah helped me up the 3 steps. So I managed. Sarah helped me back to my seat, then returned to the pulpit to give her own Tribute on behalf of herself and Helen.

Afterwards a few of us went to the Crematorium for the Committal. Then we met up with the rest of our party at The Basset Hound for buffet and drinks. We had a tab on the bar for the party, as we felt Dad was always generous when entertaining his friends and family, and he enjoyed a tipple himself. ;-)

The Funeral Directors sent a car to fetch Mum from the nursing home with a nurse to help her, and Sarah travelled with her to keep her company too. We didn't know if she'd be able to cope with the whole of the day, but she managed both the Crematorium and the reception after as well as the funeral. John and Sarah took her and her nurse back to the nursing home when Mum began to show signs of being tired.

When they got back to the pub we had another round of drinks, just the closest family (including John's Mum, Mary).

This is all old news now, but I wanted to make a record for myself.

Here's a couple of recent photos of my favourite city.



St Nicholas Church




Atlantic Tower, RoyalSunAlliance building (to let) and that big tall building that I haven't found the name of yet. It's very striking, even more so seen from Birkenhead. That top penthouse must have fantastic views!