D-Day

It has never struck me so forcibly that my cousin Ann’s birthday was on the same day as D-Day, the day the Alliance forces landed in Normandy in 1944 – a sombre day indeed.

Throughout the day, as celebrations were reported on the radio, I found myself thinking of Ann, whose funeral we will be attending next week.

I still remember her in the 1960s. We were both bridesmaids to my cousin Pat.

I had reached the grand age of 11. The beautiful apricot dress was designed for a fuller figure than I had at that age. I had to have a padded bra to fill it out a bit & give it some shape.

Ann, by then, was about 17. She was the senior bridesmaid. The third bridesmaid was another cousin Anne, who was about 13.

We went down to Stoke frequently at this time for fittings, shoe hunts etc. Ann was into Adam Faith at the time. Her record collection seemed to consist mainly of his songs, the big exception being Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony.

I was intending to ring Derek, Ann’s husband, last night to check how he was doing. It must been a difficult day for him. Yesterday was also their wedding anniversary to make things even worse. However, in the end I didn’t ring. I found myself so sad I felt unable to bring any cheer to any conversation. I concluded he didn’t need that. Hopefully, his daughter, a much closer relative, will have been there for him.

I will be glad when the funeral is over. I always hate this limbo time between a death & the funeral. I never quite feel I can settle to life. Thoughts keep returning to the deceased. A little lowness is inevitable, but this lowness is very different from the black despair of depression.

Once the funeral is over I’m sure I’ll settle to being my more normal self & think about life once more & the numerous things we want to sort out soon – the garden, eye tests, dentist, another holiday....