Death is a reality that everybody has to confront at some time in life. It always seems to sting no matter when it happens or how prepared we are for it. To add insult to the injury of death, is on those occasions when a child dies or when an adult outlives their adult child.
Children are supposed to bury their parents and not the other way around. Such misfortune happened twice to my great grandparents, John and Mary Angell. In 1911, they buried their teenage daughter, ‘Lizzie’ and in 1952, they buried their adult son, Albert’. We can only imagine what their heartbreak was life on both of those occasions.
