In the early hours of 4/12/14 my Dad died – and later that day it also became clear that Mum’s death was imminent. That evening, wrapped in his dressing gown, I curled up in his chair and – finally – braved the “Funeral Box”. For years he’d asked me to go through this box with him, but with a mixture of dread and naivety I’d refused. When I lifted the lid, there was a numbered list of what I needed to do, plus every document required to register their deaths and to organise the funeral. My selfishness suddenly hit me – all those years of denying Dad the reassurance of going through this box with him; the box he’d put together with such love. His chair now sits in my studio, a reminder of who I am and of all that they did for me.
I’m not feeling sad, just pensive and grateful.