Margaret (1929 - 2011)

Margaret as a young woman

Flowers from Calum and Lola.

Flowers from me, Joe and Alex.

Flowers from Colin, Cindy, Maddie and Emma.

Taken by surprise
My mother-in-law Margaret recently died of lung cancer.

It was a very aggressive form and when they diagnosed her, they warned us she had six to eight weeks to live. In the end, it was only four.

She had been ill for several months with other serious complaints so we knew she wasn't well. But the speed with which she declined took us all by surprise - and left us bereft when she died.

Nothing prepares you for losing someone you love, even when it is expected. And when that person is the last surviving parent, the scale and speed of the practicalities involved afterwards is a double blow. So much to do and so little time.

And to complicate matters further there was no will.

The call
The phone call came at three o'clock in the morning. I was asleep but woke instantly, knowing it would be bad news. And of course it was. What followed was a blur as I made phone calls to members of the family, looked up train times to London, got dressed and booked a taxi to the station. I'm used to commuting as I do it every day but I was quite surprised by the number of people who caught the 6.10am to Kings Cross. So was Joe.

We went to Margaret's flat and collected the things we'd knew we'd need for the death certificate. Thankfully, I'd looked up the information in advance and we'd found the documents in preparation. We just hadn't reckoned on needing them quite so soon.

The hospice
We couldn't go to the hospice until 10.00am and when we arrived it finally hit us that she'd really gone. The staff were very sympathethic but it was a surreal experience. We were asked lots of questions, including about the funeral, which we'd barely thought about. However, by the end of the day we'd set a date and put everything in motion. The saddest part was collecting her things.

The registrar
We had to register the death at Westminster Council and were lucky to get an appointment for later the same day. It's for birth, deaths and marriages so we were surround by babies in the waiting room and saw lots of people in their wedding finery. The steps were also covered in confetti. The registrar was very professional and took her time with us which we appreciated. We bought several copies of the certificate as we'd been told by the hospice it would be more expensive and complicated to do it later. It was a good tip.

The funeral director
Organising a funeral is a very stressful experience and the one thing you need from a funeral director is a sympathetic and helpful response. The first person I spoke to, 'Maggie', made it clear that she was 'busy' and could we go back on Monday? We'd told her we didn't live in London. However, we needed it done so I went along with her and said I'd call back when we had more info. When I thought about our conversation I felt angry. Not good enough.

So I rang another funeral director whose card we'd been given by the hospice and dealt with a lovely person called Carmel who immediately gave us confidence and said she'd be happy to see us that day. When we arrived, she literally gave us tea and sympathy and had already made some useful phone calls. We were definitely in capable hands. She talked us through the process so we knew what to expect - and were also aware of all the tasks that had to be completed in the next week. Choosing a coffin was the worst bit, but it had to be done and we settled on one that was elegant but not fussy. Just what Margaret would have wanted.

The mass
The sun shone on the day of the funeral, one of the hottest of the year. It made everything seem brighter and more hopeful. The flowers really stood out in the sunlight and looked beautiful.

The service was beautiful too, a traditional Roman Catholic Requiem Mass at the church where Margaret worshipped for over thirty years. Her faith was very important to her and it was very important to us that we gave her the funeral she would have wanted. Putting togther the Order of Service was a time-consuming and intense task but we all pulled together as a family. The children chose readings, her sister Rose suggested suitable hymns and the priest Father Howard checked everything to make sure it was correct.

It was a small, intimate service and very personal. Father Howard included facts about Margaret's life that I'd given him in a way that gave you a real sense of who she was - a loving mother and grandmother, a fiercely independent person, someone who was extremely proud of her Scottish roots and never lost her sense of identity as a Glaswegian. He also spoke of her kindness and generosity.

Calum and Lola did readings and so did Joe's cousin Kevin, who'd flown over from Canada, complete wth kilt. The children read clearly and with real feeling. Joe and I were extremely proud of them - and their grandma would have been too. Several friends and neighbours turned up to say a final farewell and it was good to see them as well.

The crematorium
After the mass there was a very short service at the crematorium which involved a long drive across London. The funeral cars were smooth and sleek and you felt as though you were cacooned from the outside world, looking out on everyday life but not part of it as there was something much more important taking place. I watched the expressions on some people's faces change as the hearse went by, but many didn't give it a second glance. I did a final reading at the crematorium. The audience was small but the words were heartfelt. They were my last goodbye to Margaret.

The meal
We didn't want a lot of fuss. Margaret was not a person for making fuss, so the family members, togther with our close friend, Paul, went for a meal at Le Mercury. It was where we took Margaret for her 80th birthday and where she'd been for meals with Rose and her husband Paul so it seemed fitting. It was at the meal that we finally started to relax knowing everything had gone according to plan and that Margaret had been given the funeral she deserved.

So rest in peace Margaret. You will be sadly missed by your family - your sons Joe, Colin and Alex, your daughters-in-law Amanda and Cindy and your grandchildren Calum, Lola, Maddie and Emma.

We will never forget you and all that you meant to us.

Gerda and Fire and Stone

Lola, Calum, me and Gerda in Fire and Stone - check out those pizzas.

Prost! (which means 'cheers' in German0

Lola, Calum, me and Gerda

I have a lovely Austrian friend called Gerda. We've known each other for thirty years and been firm friends throughout. We don't see each other that often but when we do, we pick up where we left off - the sign of a true friendship. Gerda is an English teacher and makes occasional trips to the UK with her students. So when she said she was visiting the UK recently, we jumped at the chance to go to London to meet up with her.

Gerda was exhausted after spending the day sightseeing with her students so the first port of call was to the cafe at the National Portrait for a much needed espresso. We then moved on to covent Garden where we wandered through the piazza, soaking up the atmosphere, complete with entertainers, until we reached Fire and Stone, our favourite pizza place in Maiden Lane. They make pizzas like no other I've ever tasted, each themed around a destination. I had an Athena which had olives, feta cheese and sundried tomatoes and was absolutely deliciious.

Fire and Stone was buzzing, as usual, so I was glad I'd booked a table. It's always busy as it's so popular and I'd learnt from previous experience that it's always worth booking.

We spent a very happy couple of hours there with Gerda and were sorry when we had to leave to get the train. We chatted non-stop and it was lovely to catch uo with each other's news. There was aso an impromptu English lesson as I provided Gerda with advice on a text she's doing with her students - Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones.

I also gave Gerda a list of books I think she'd enjoy reading with Small Island by Andrea Levy at the top of the list. It's one of my all time favourite books.

When the time came to leave, we parted with hugs and kisses and an offer from Gerda to visit Austria whenever we wanted, so typical of her warmth and generosity. I'm sure it's an offer we will take her up on.

So, as the Austrians say, 'Bis bald', or in other words, 'See you soon.'