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| Real Stories |
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Mrs H, Manchester
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Jean didn’t have any next of kin and only a few left in her immediate family. Her neighbours kept an eye open for her but it was quite usual not to see her from weekend to weekend. She didn’t go out very much - just to the local shops, her dog stayed in the house or garden all the time.
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In the early hours, she was taken ill suddenly and only just managed to call for an ambulance, a neighbour saw the emergency and took charge of the dog. Whilst in hospital, Mrs H suffered a massive heart attack and died. The hospital staff must have asked about 'next of kin' to learn that she had a sister who was informed in the early hours. (Decided many years before)…The executor now lived at the other end of the country and it fell upon nieces and a nephew to try and sort Mrs H’s affairs.
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As the house was alarmed and connected to a monitored central station, the very first problem was entering the premises, the PIN number to the alarm was unknown - the alarm triggered and the police arrived. If it hadn't been for the presence of the police the alarm company would never have accepted the verbal request to provide a new password to stop any further alarm calls.
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The next problem was to keep the telephone alive - which would help when her friends called and then later calling the listed contacts [plus maintaining alarmed security]. After that, the house would need to be looked and then the dog - which by now was fretting. That day, 'M' (the nephew) had the distressing task of informing the neighbour who was kindly looking after the dog – obviously the shock of the situation was very upsetting but also she didn't really want to look after Jeans dog any longer.
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For the nieces and nephew, the day developed into a blind search for information - whilst answering the ringing telephone to tell callers gently that Mrs H had died… In the meantime - Where was her purse? Where were the credit cards? Where were any keys to the property? What should be done about the dog and the incessant telephone calls coming in?
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Mrs H (strangely) had one book for telephone friends and a completely separate book for postal friends - none were connected. With great tact and care, nephew ‘M’ began calling the names in her telephone book to convey the bad news, the task traumatically exacerbated by tears of grief emanating from the unsuspecting friends on the other end. That done, writing to all the many names in her address book was tackled by preparing a photographic card adorned with Mrs H’s smiling portrait whilst inside a sympathetic message provided a reply address and mobile number.
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Within a few days, arrangements were made with a randomly chosen funeral director. With no knowledge of any last wishes, the decision was made to cremate. Many of her friends came from miles around – all thanked the nephew and nieces for contacting them (without which they would never had known). Her ashes were eventually scattered on remembrance lawns at the local crematorium without ceremony. Unfortunately, her dog couldn’t be looked after or given away; he had to be collected by a Pet Rescue Society.
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Lessons learned by the Nephew and Nieces
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Only Aunty H knew what her real wishes were, who her friends were (and where they were!!), where her banks accounts were and what her financial arrangements were. Of course the Executor could read a will (which luckily had been lodged with her solicitor) but only she knew what she wanted doing with her dog and what her desires were for funeral arrangements...everyone else just did their best.
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Mrs J, Lancashire
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Mrs J. a widow from Lancashire, was a fairly solitary person 'keeping herself to herself'… Getting on in years she had difficulty shopping and walking about. Most of her contact was via the telephone and annually she would send birthday cards and Xmas cards to many old friends all over the NW of England. Her company from day to day was an idiosyncratic and temperamental cat which would cower under the sofa whenever even friends called – especially so when the 'Pools' man came to collect.
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One day, early in the morning, stiff from her replacement hip joint, she slipped at the top of the stairs and fell all the way down…probably unconscious for a while and unable to stand, she eventually crawled to the ‘phone to summons help from a local friend. She was one (of three as it turned out) with a key and rushed round to realized an emergency ambulance was necessary - within minutes Mrs J. was in safe hands in A&E. For the few minutes Mrs J. was able to communicate, the hospital gleamed that she had a sister locally; she was telephoned but unfortunately Mrs J. died. The sister (knowing more about her private life) contacted Mrs J’s distant son and much later next day they met each other with a key to the house.
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'Tiddles' – by now starving - was a little friendlier, the house was cold and stale from cigarette smells and there were signs of the disaster (and that of the cats!!!). Not knowing where to start or what to do next, the pair first fed the cat and then set about clearing up. The telephone began to ring a few hours later…”Hello!!! Who’s that?? Is Mrs J. there?” [Who are you? the son enquired] “Oh I’m a friend of hers, only I haven’t heard from her for a day or so”…. and so on... Later the doorbell rings – it’s the 'Pools' collector – and the start of many explanations is under way.
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Being alone, Mrs J. relied on telephone contact and letters – the son found a book of names, telephone numbers and a few addresses but not enough to satisfy the relentless calls left on Mrs J’s answer machine; who were they? – only a few left a name!! The telephone had to be put on divert and answered with caution.
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Over the weeks it became apparent that Mrs J. was indeed a very popular lady but all the son could do was convey the bad news as and when calls came in. He wrote to the very few names with addresses written down but wondered how many would think his Mum was just ignoring or forgetting her life long friends.
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Not knowing her wishes, the son decided he would arrange her cremation – he didn’t know that Mrs J. had been paying for her own funeral arrangements with a regular plan (that only came to light after reading every single piece of paper stashed away in large biscuit tins) but eventually it was sorted out.
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During the funeral the house had an attempted break-in and for months (whilst the house was for sale) incoming post revealed all kinds of regular outgoings, ‘book-clubs’, credit catalogues – someone even left a card stating that a paper-bill had not been paid as no-one had stopped the papers being delivered [but they were being 'borrowed' by a house down the road].
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Two years on, re-directed post is still being sent to her son, Xmas cards and birthday cards arrive with messages of goodwill signed “Bill and Leslie”, “Sam and the boys”, “Love Martin”…they still don’t know she gone!!!!!
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