Friday, 23rd December 2011
Woke quite early and down stairs, did some ironing and other chores, then contemplated going to Liverpool early. Remembering I had to take the signed crematory form back to Berry & Jagger, thought I’d best wait. It took ages to get light and only when Steve woke up about 8.30, I noticed it was dark, overcast and piddling it down with rain outside. We postponed our trip out to later on. The rain, though, it persisted down all day long and when the funeral director called to say he would call by, just to see how we are getting on (and pick up his deposit) and to say that the graphic designers would also call by to sort out the order of service for dad’s funeral, we decided not to bother and Steve went out to Prescot on his own mainly to get out.
Cathy called by and we chose the design and I said I would email her a photo of dad. The one I had in mind was a lovely portrait shot I took of dad on the Isle of Man, but mum said she wanted a normal photo, meaning not wearing a hat. Then the funeral director came by and took his deposit and no sooner had he gone then Sister Eileen turned up with a copy of the reading and hymns and things. Seemingly, I am doing the first reading and we might need to ask Liam and Ceira to do the offertories. I have long been an atheist and can’t remember much about all of this hokus pocus, but if it pleases the family…
About 7pm mum says she is upset that her meds have not been delivered. She says she wants the sleeping pills and thinks she will have to wait now till Monday. I wish she had said earlier, I could have walked over to pick them up. I tentatively mentioned that Monday was Boxing Day and Tuesday was a bank holiday. Oo, I can’t repeat what she said. I suggested we call the out of hour’s service but she maintains they will not give her the diazepam that she wants. I will try in any case after double-checking they will not turn up in the morning. I should have thought that the GP would understand, considering what she has been through this week.
One of the big problems Steve has each time he comes up, especially in winter, when Mum’s need for heat has meant she now has her own gas storage tank in the back garden to ensure the boiler will never turn off this side of April. Well maybe May. I asked Steve to sit in with her and I as he usually sits in the back room and it looks a little anti social. We did do and melted. The other thing is that mum’s TV viewing only consists of sports or food programmes. We watched a Raymond Blanc programme, mum couldn’t hear it as she is quite deaf and the TV volume is usually turned up to 11 and I can’t understand his accent. Mum and I kept asking Steve, “What did he say?” As soon as mum says, “I think I’ll go up”, I turn of the rad in the living room, which is big enough to heat a small concert hall and Steve will open the back door to get a draft through. It’s the routine.
During the course of the evening as I type up the Xmas Log, I think about dad’s ashes and scattering them on the Mersey and I think about when dad’s dad died. I am not that comfortable with calling him Granddad as he died before I was born, many years back. In fact, I remind myself that his ship was sunk in the North Atlantic in December. I check a website I have about the ship he went down in, and realise my dad died on the same day that his dad died. I feel too upset to say anything to mum at this time in the evening and so I’ll save that for the morning.
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