Mum always appreciated visiting Dad's grave at Little Paxton Cemetery
Mum always appreciated visiting Dad's grave at Little Paxton Cemetery

Dad’s funeral – We awoke to find a thick fog, but it cleared and the sun came out to become exceptionally still, mild and sunny weather. It was a first class to send off for Dad! They certainly turned out for him; relatives, friends, colleagues and neighbours alike. I was proud of him and of the comments variously voiced, that I was so much like him in terms of mannerisms, voice etc.

The close family gathered with Mum at The Hayling View and then the cortege proceeded firstly to St James Church, Little Paxton, for the service.  The coach had arrived from Stanton and many other cars as well went on to Little Paxton cemetery for the committal where there was a long line of floral tributes which Funeral Director Peter McGarry read individually to Mum and I as we passed.

Then afterwards the transport home to The Hayling View for the Wake where we set up Mum on her wheelchair in our front hall, welcoming each visitor as they came in for refreshments. Di’s family helped Joan dispense a seemingly endless supply of tea, sandwiches, cakes, mince pies and sausage rolls. Contrary to my prediction, they had a good appetite and we could hardly keep up. back at.

It was a fine and happy occasion; the service and burial had been well done, the whole well attended and the companionship a great comfort and compensation. We particularly thanked The Rev Peter Lewis for his service and the Funeral Director for the arrangements. The taxi took mum back to Weald House and the rest of us tidied up the chairs and collapsed with exhaustion.

I slept reasonably well considering the day ahead but was concerned to awake and find thick fog. At least there was no frost and then, as the morning progressed, the fog dispersed, and the sun came out. We were up between times and, after breakfast was eaten, we all did various tasks to complete our readiness for the service. I changed, tested out the Rolls-Royce and put it and the other cars out of the way so that they would not get blocked in. First to arrive was in the disabled taxi at 10am. Then Ivy Arthur and Keith Barrett with Elaine in June shortly followed by mum’s sisters Vi, Olive and Nancy and Olive’s husband Stan. Together with us these formed the close relatives of Mum and Dad’s that would be following the coffin into the church.

** PRESS "Read More" BELOW for the complete story **

Mum got into the limousine without much difficulty and then I put Freda, Ivy and Arthur in and joined them myself. Diana brought Alf and our children in our Rolls-Royce behind, Keith followed with Alan and Doreen Lockyer and the taxi from Great Yarmouth brought Vi, Nance and Olive to bring up the rear. We got to the church a little after noon and we sat and watched the bearers unload Dad’s oak coffin onto the processional trolley. Mum was disembarked into the folding wheelchair and we followed her into St James’s Church behind the coffin. The church was quite full. The coach had arrived from Stanton and many other cars were parked outside. We put Di, Alf and our children in the second pew and Ivy and Arthur beside Freda, Mum and I in the front and the organist had accompanied us in with fine tones.

The service was begun by the Rev Peter Lewis once Mum and settled and found her service sheet. We sat as Peter read the sentences and we stood to say together the opening prayer… ‘Heavenly Father…..’. We sat for a united reading of Psalm 23 in the old format. Sitting, Peter read the lesson from the Gospel of St John chapters 14 verses 1 to 4 and then made an address. It was a fine and settled address, referring to Dad’s 50 years of marriage with Mum, his 25 years’ service in the ambulance service, his retirement etc. He drew the compensation of him now being at rest. He gave thanks to Dad as a carer for Mum and others as a friend, neighbour and relative to many before getting the congregation to pause in prayer for the bereaved and all bereaved. We then had time to think our own thoughts for Dad. We then said the prayer of commendation Psalm 103 versus 8, 13 to 17, ‘the Lord is full of compassion and mercy’ and then joined together in ‘the prayer that Jesus taught us’, ‘Our father, who art in heaven…’-All in the old style. We finished together with the Grace. The organist then led us, in voice as well as with music, in singing Dad’s favourite hymn, ‘The day thou gavest Lord, is ended, the darkness falls at thy behest’. The congregation did very well, and the Psalm was well sung.

I was singing well at first but had to cease with tears. Mum and Freda were crying throughout and, as we left and follow the coffin afterwards, there were tears from Doris (Mum’s friend and home help), Derek (Dad’s lifelong ambulance colleague), Stan (Lorna’s husband, himself not very well) and many others to a lesser extent. It was a fine, touching and fitting service – very moving and well felt by over 70 at least in the church. I left the church in tears, helping Peter McGarry, the funeral director, to get Mum back to the car. We followed Dad to Little Paxton cemetery with at least one man removing his hat with respect. As we turned into the car park, we saw the coach, taxi and a dozen cars forming a truly impressive cortege. We got Mum into the folding wheelchair again and followed the coffin in what was now exceptionally still, mild and sunny weather. The Rev Peter Lewis said the prayer that traditionally accompanies the commendation and as he said, ‘Ashes to Ashes, dust to dust…’, Peter McGarry sprinkled a handful of earth onto the coffin and over its brass plate, bearing the legend, ‘Frederick William Broad, died 22 November 1989, aged 75 years’.

We turned and Mum was shown the three family wreaths from her, me and Freda and that she met the mourners who kissed and hugged and gave comfort to her and shook my hand as we thanked them for coming. There was a long line of other floral tributes which Peter McGarry read individually to Mum and I as we passed. His colleagues are listed the names on the cards which were left on for future identification. Then the transport home where we set up Mum on her wheelchair in our front hall, welcoming each visitor as they came in for refreshments. Di’s family helped Joan dispense a seemingly endless supply of tea, sandwiches, cakes, mince pies and sausage rolls. Contrary to my prediction, they had a good appetite and we could hardly keep up.

It was a fine and happy occasion; the service and burial had been well done, the whole well attended and the companionship a great comfort and compensation. We particularly thanked The Rev Peter Lewis for his service and his thanks were genuine. The guests gradually left with Mum’s three sisters the very last. She thought she would never see them together again and we wished we had longer. The taxi took mum back to Weald House and the rest of us tidied up the chairs and collapsed with exhaustion. A first class to send off for Dad! They certainly turned out for him; relatives, friends, colleagues and neighbours alike. I was proud of him and of the comments variously voiced, that I was so much like him in terms of mannerisms, voice etc. We sat up late in nervous and intensive conversation and slept lightly still thinking of the day’s events