Today would have been my gorgeous father-in-law’s birthday had he been well and recovered from lung cancer, bone cancer et al. Bless him. This anniversary coincided with another family funeral. They have buried their third loved one in as many months – the second being this aunt’s grand daughter. Amazingly, they have found comfort to imagine that she has gone to be Granny to the little one who’s passed – and a poem was read to that effect before we turned to leave. The sun shone as the funeral ended and I drank her favourite tipple, whiskey, to toast a very sweet lady who loved leopard skin, whiskey and cigarettes and lived for her family. A sad day which only magnified my rather reflective mood. A second whiskey and lemonade toasted my father-in-law who I miss dreadfully. My man hasn’t been the same since losing his dad and even on the days when he is trying my patience somewhat, I remember what he’s lost and swallow hard. Life flies by and before you know it, you’re the one lying flowers on the ground, talking to a dappled headstone the colour of your hair.
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