Last Resting Place

The previous post lead me to this.

The first funeral I went to was my Dad's. I was not considered old enough to go to the funerals of my grandparents. That is with the exception of Grandma Phillips. The thing that messed that one up was that it was the day of my maths GSE exam. There was no way that Mam was going to let me miss that one so I didn't get to go to the funeral. Not only didn't I go to the funeral but I never went to the grave either. Well, not until the other weekend. I knew that her grave was in Killingbeck Cemetery, the catholic burial ground for Leeds, but I didn't know exactly where.

Granddad Phillips is also buried in Killingbeck, I'd been to his grave once, that would have been not long after he died. That was over thirty five years ago and I had only a rough idea where his grave was.

Never one to be thwarted by small things like that I took the opportunity to find and photograph their graves.

After quite a bit of trekking around in the rain I found Granddad's [Walter Philips] grave quite easily. It took me another hour to find Grandma's grave.

It wasn't the finding of it that surprised me, I would have found it had it taken me all day. The thing that surprised me was that I always thought her name was Kathleen [always shortened to Kitty]. It wasn't. Her name was Catherine.

I was glad that I been and seen their graves. I won't be able to do the same for the last resting places of my parents.

Dad never expressed a preference for where he wanted to end up. Well, if he did, he didn't do it to me. After he was cremated, Mam put his ashes on the back garden. "He spent most of his time out there, so that's where I'm putting him." she said "And his cat's out there, so that'll suit him" she added as an afterthought, but probably to justify the action. The only way I could "visit" him now would be to knock on the door of some poor unsuspecting householder. Not a visit I intend making.

Mam was more sure of her eventuality. Ever the staunch Yorkshire woman, she wanted her ashes to be scattered/ placed, or whatever you do with ashes, on the North Yorkshire Moors.

My eldest brother brought this to fruition for her. I don't know if he scattered or buried her ashes or even exactly where, all he said was that, from where ever it was, you could see the sea and the moors.

I know I'll never ask him for the exact location but, where ever it was, I'm sure it's just what she wanted, so that's good enough for me.