It was a tragedy that her son died twenty five years ago when he was only 24 for he was one of those intelligent bright spark entrepreneurs that were all the rage in the 1980s.
Ian parry was a good friend. I knew him when he was a slightly overweight, slightly gauche teenager and I knew him after he had blossomed into a fearless, hugely ambitious newspaper photographer.
When all of his friends were battling through University ( or in my case nurse training) he had already moved to London, bought a flat in an upcoming part of the city and made a name for himself amid the cut throat world of hacks and celebrity.
He was always destined for bigger and better things.
Unfortunately with rolls of film in his pockets and his cameras slung around his neck, he was killed escaping from the uprising against Ceausescu in Romania in '89.....
He died only a few days before my father.
So today, my sister and I will be paying our respects at Ian's Mother's funeral.
We will be doing it for Ian.
As another old friend confided in me a day or so ago" it marks an end of an era"
Like so many friends and family who died a long time ago, it's sometimes difficult to picture them clearly, or to hear their voice as you once heard it.
Time plays that awful trick on a person.
Does it not?
Just arrived home after the service. and I could tell that my sister felt as uncomfortable as I did.
I am glad we went, but the memories that same place/ same reason funerals bring forth, are not particularly pleasant ones