Anniversaries and funerals in The View from the Terrace

It’s 60 years today since my father-in-law died. I never knew him, yet I remember and notice this. Hubby is going about his day totally oblivious. He never remembers dates, where they are hugely significant to me.

I think they were significant to my mother-in-law, too. She was always telling me that her husband died on February 13 and was buried on her son’s 13th birthday 4 days later. So that means that Hubby’s birthday on Sunday is the 60th anniversary of his father’s funeral. Why did his mother allow that to happen, surely you can choose the day of a funeral. He didn’t go to the funeral. In those days children were treated differently, no one seemed to realise that they had feelings too, but I think the way he was treated sounds pretty awful even for then. He has told me that he was sent to school as usual not even knowing it was the day of the funeral and he came home to find the house full of relatives. His father’s brother took his father’s war medals when he left. Hubby has always felt very resentful about that. He felt they should have been his. I have recently discovered, while doing family history research that the 2 brothers joined up together and served together in Africa, so I understand why he wanted them.

It is strange the way children were treated in those days. I remember when my grandfather died when I was 11 and I was not allowed to go to the funeral. A friend of mum’s came over to watch me and I remember sitting in the big bay window over the pub and counting all of the cars leaving. There were 10. Granddad had run the pub for 13 years before handing it over to Dad, then in the 12 years that followed he had still been in the bar helping almost every evening, he was very popular. I remember thinking there were so many people at his funeral which was lovely, but most of them were friends, I was his only grandchild, I should have been there. Then the wake afterwards was held in the bar so I couldn’t go to that either as children were not allowed in licensed premises in those days. After Granddad died my mum decided that my dad needed to get away for a short holiday but they didn’t take me with them, they sent me to stay with an aunt and cousin while they went to Eastbourne together. I felt so rejected, did no one realise I was a part of the family and I was grieving too. I have thought since that poor Grandma was also left alone with her grief. One of the barmaids who had run a pub herself moved in for the week to look after the pub and presumably Grandma too.

The following year Grandma died and again I couldn’t go to the funeral. We had had a TB scare at my school and everyone was tested. I was positive and an appointment had been made for a chest x ray. The funeral was on the same day. Did my parents do that on purpose, as I said earlier surely you can choose the day of a funeral. A friend took me to the hospital and I came home, like Hubby, to find the house full of relatives (we had left the pub by then). I had never even met some of these people, to this day I don’t know who some of them were. I only know that Grandma’s only grandchild wasn’t allowed to be there.

When I was 14 we moved from Shropshire to Sussex. It broke my heart but I tried to make a new life. It all went wrong but that’s another story. They couldn’t take me at the local grammar school and the only private school in the area was full. Eventually I just didn’t go back to school. I was almost 15 and you could leave at 15 in those days and Dad persuaded the education people to let it go. I was feeling rejected and alone when dad was diagnosed with lung cancer 2 months after we moved. He died 9 months later. This time Mum wanted me by her side at the funeral and I feel ashamed to say I didn’t go. I’m still not sure why. I think maybe I had started to develop a fear of funerals after being prevented from going before. A part of me wonders if I was even getting back at Mum. She hadn’t wanted me when Dad was alive so I wasn’t going now. I stayed at home and shut myself in my bedroom and cried for everything I had lost, my hometown and now my dad. Mum had her sister with her and they were the only 2 people at my dad’s funeral. Poor Dad, it should have been packed like Granddad’s, he was well loved in Shrewsbury, but no one knew him in Bognor Reigs. The few relatives he had couldn’t get there as they lived miles away.

When Dad died no one ever asked me how I was. The neighbours asked Mum but I was either ignored or told to be strong and look after my mum. No one seemed to realise I was grieving too. I am so glad children are no longer treated like this. I saw a programme on TV the other day about Winston’s Wish, a charity that helps bereaved children, and there are hospices that support the family as well as patients with cancer like my dad. It is so good that this need has been recognised.

So I am sitting here thinking about my father-in-law who I never knew while Hubby has gone to his art group unaware that it is the 60th anniversary of his father’s death. Has he repressed it? Should I remind him? I think I may go out and pick a few of the daffodils that are budding in the garden and put them by his photo. I sometimes wish I could get those medals back for Hubby. His uncle died years ago so I wonder what happened to them, maybe his children have them, they should be Hubby’s now.

Last updated February 14, 2019