Once upon a time, there were two brothers in Ilkeston, Eric (born 1926) and Keith (born 1931) who married two sisters from Leicester, Margaret (born 1928) and Dorothy (born 1933). Keith and Dorothy had two children, me and my sister Diane. Eric and Margaret had no children and were my only uncle and aunt. A small family.
Here they all are at my parent’s wedding in 1955 – left to right; Eric, Keith, Dorothy, Margaret, George (father of Dorothy and Margaret)
George is obviously here representing the previous generation, my grandparents. All born at the turn of the century and died between 1964 and 1978. Mary died suddenly when I was five, the rest were gone before my 20th birthday and they were grandparents, so it was expected.
What you don’t expect so much, even though it’s obvious, is that your parents and their generation will also die sometime. Even though I left home at 19 and spent most of my life not living close to them – Margaret & Eric never left the East Midlands and the rest of my family moved back there from London in the 80’s while I stayed in London – these four people were the only constant in my life, alongside Queen Elizabeth II.
So, imagine the surprise when Uncle Eric was the first to leave us in 2011, aged 85. The first ominous sign that this generation was not going to live forever after all. Margaret followed in 2018, the only one to reach the age of 90. Then, following a car accident, a broken hip from a fall and covid, dad decided he’d had enough in 2021 (despite promising mum that he’d not go before her) and just a couple of months ago in 2022, the last of this generation, my mum, went to be reunited with dad. Both mum and dad were 89 when they died.
To complete the removal of all the seemingly immortal people in my life, the Queen, of course, also died this year, just a month or so before mum. She beat us all by making it to the age of 96 but then she could afford better healthcare and had more people looking after her.
The target has now moved to my sister and I. We are now the oldest generation. We are the grandparents. Well, technically my sister is a grandparent and I’m only a grand-uncle right now but the point is – we’re next! I’m 63, Diane is 58 so with luck we have a while before it’s our turn but we are both now very aware that there’s nobody in front of us in the queue for eternal rest and redemption.
Rest in Peace: Eric, Margaret, mum & dad. I’m certain that by the time I get there you will have got the comfy chairs organised and found a way to make plenty of nice cups of tea.
Twenty Degrees East 