‘With Mum getting frail, I missed Dad more than ever’ ‘Jill had predicted my windfall four months ago’ ‘When I go, bury me in the cheapest box!’ my dad, Alan Roberts, then 68, said.
That was him all over.
Strong, independent, he never wanted fuss.
A Teddy Boy in his youth, he’d always neat hair. He doted on my mum Edith, now 79.
Bought her roses every week.
After my carer job, I’d visit my folks most days.
Reading
Sadly, Dad passed away in July 2007, age 70, of leukaemia.
We gave him a quiet send off, as he’d instructed.
Tearfully, I placed a single rose on his coffin.
Then, I planted a rose bush in Mum’s garden. Everyone missed him dearly.
Knowing he’d want me to care for…
