Three years ago today, Julie’s Dad died suddenly. I wrote this post the day after, and I am re-blogging it today, in his memory.
That year, we both lost a parent, and luckily had each other to turn to.
Since I published this, Frank’s ashes have been interred in a peaceful woodland cemetery in Rickmansworth. It will be allowed to return to nature. That is something that Frank would have liked a lot.
Rest easy, Frank. You are never forgotten.
On Sunday afternoon, Julie’s dad died suddenly. He had enjoyed a traditional Sunday lunch , followed by a nap, and he was at home, with his wife, and sister-in-law. Something happened, yet to be determined, and he died almost immediately. Paramedics and Ambulances attended, but were unable to save him. We drove down to Watford, a journey of three hours, and Julie was able to see him, and say her farewells. Aubrey Francis Clarke was 83 years old. He was a family man, and loved nothing more than the company of his wife, three daughters and son, as well as his grandchildren, and great grandchildren.
There is no point looking for Frank’s obituary in The Times, or The Guardian. He was not an actor, playwright, or distinguished musician, or even a politician. He was a man who worked hard all his life, to give the best chances to his family…
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