Fran

Today is the day of Fran’s funeral. Whether we go is still questionable. We had dismissed the idea as we would be in Italy. Now it’s health that is the worry. Yesterday afternoon my cold seemed to start to dry up. That’s not to say it’s gone but I feel I’m over the worst of it. However, the Fox is now failing. Whether either of us will feel up to the trip to the crem is dubious.

We’ve known Fran more or less ever since we moved to Morecambe– some 17 years. She was there in the days of Friday afternoons at the Pub. We did our best to support her through the death of her first husband, Harry. We attended her subsequent marriage to Den. We had a couple of Christmas Day lunches with them in local pub restaurants. Fran was a leading light in the days of last-Monday-of-the-month meals out.

She was always charming, always impeccably dressed, always a very gentle & generous soul. It was heart-searing to watch her fall into dementia, no longer able to look after herself or to know much of what was happening around her. She will be missed, though, in a way, most of us felt we’d lost her years ago as she withdrew from this world into that unfathomable world of dementia.