Another piece of personal news today:
Some of us, like myself, were lucky enough to have had both parents healthy and alive throughout the duration of their childhood. I was fortunate in that respect, and enjoyed the security of Mum and Dad always being around. Dad unfortunately died when I was almost 20 years old, and my mum Dot, the star of my memoir ‘Waiting in the Wings’, went on to forge an independent life for the next 40 years.
On Sunday evening Dot’s life ended. It had been on the cards for some time, as she had been bed-bound since before Christmas, and had been going downhill slowly. However, we had been assured by the doctors before we went on our pre-arranged holiday that Mum would still be here when we returned, and she was, but had deteriorated greatly. Even though her death was expected, it was still a shock to receive that 3am phone call. Having just returned from the US and still jet-lagged, when the phone jangled by the bed I woke up from a deep sleep, and for an awful moment had no idea where I was.
The death of parents afflicts most people in their 50’s and 60’s, and I am no exception. Now I must sift through all Dot’s things and clear out her flat. It’s not an easy task, and what with my upcoming treatment I have already worked out that 2017 is not going to be my year, but hey, that’s life.
Dot was an East Ender. She hated Suffolk, and I have already decided that I will place her ashes on her mother’s grave in the East London Cemetery in Plaistow. It is fitting that her last resting place will be in the area where she was born, and I’m sure she would agree. Dad has no grave, and my grandmother’s grave in East London, recently restored by us, will be a good place for the family to visit.
Rest in peace Mum. xxx