Bringing Granddad Home

My maternal grandfather died quite young. He was only around 65 years old. I heard the news of course, and despite being only 12 years old myself, I took it quite well, without getting too upset. As was tradition, he was ‘laid out’ in a coffin in the parlour of the house, and every member of the family was taken to see him. It was the first time I had seen a dead body, and to me he seemed to just be sleeping. He had a short funeral, followed by a burial in Nunhead Cemetery, South London.

Many years later, quite recently in fact, I learned the true circumstances of his death, and how the family ‘brought granddad home’.

He died in Essex, at a place called Heybridge, near the town of Maldon. It was just over fifty miles from his home in the London district of Bermondsey. He and my nan had been enjoying a short holiday in a caravan they had bought some years earlier, to enjoy their retirement weekends and summer breaks. My nan had woken up that morning to find him dead beside her. He was cold, and very white. She had seen enough dead people to know nothing could be done. For many years, he had been receiving treatment for Angina, so it seemed likely a heart attack had taken him during the night.

Back then (1965) it wasn’t usual to ring for an ambulance when someone died. But a death did have to be officially confirmed, usually by the family doctor. It then had to be reported to the Police too. But my nan was fifty miles away from home, so she did something different. She walked to a nearby telephone box, and rang her eldest daughter, my aunt Edie. Edie in turn rang my mum, and then the younger sister, Betty. All three were married, and it was decided that the brothers-in-law would be enlisted to deal with the situation.

Edie’s husband was called Albert, and he had the biggest car. He picked up my dad, and then went to get Betty’s husband, Benjamin. They drove the fifty miles to the caravan through heavy Sunday traffic in east London and the Essex suburbs. When they arrived, they packed up my grandparents’ things, and dressed my dead granddad in his overcoat, to cover his pyjamas. Then they propped him up in the back seat of the car, his head against the window. My dad and Benjamin sat in the back with him, to make sure he stayed upright, and didn’t slip down. With my nan in the front, and Albert driving, they set off for the house in Bermondsey.

Despite encountering some heavy traffic on the return journey, nobody outside the car appeared to notice that anything was amiss. Once back at my nan’s house, they quickly carried granddad inside, then put him into bed in his pyjamas as my nan was telephoning for the doctor. The doctor arrived, and immediately pronounced my granddad dead, knowing nothing of the fiasco surrounding his return from Essex. He was prepared to issue a death certificate with Angina as the cause, and he also notified the Police. Undertakers were called to bring a coffin, and the rest, as the saying goes, is history.

It seems my nan was afraid that if she rang for help in Essex, granddad’s body would be taken to the mortuary at Colchester Hospital. That might involve a post-mortem examination too. Instead, she relied on her family to do the right thing, and get her husband back home.

It’s one of those, ‘you couldn’t make it up’, stories, and is now a source of great amusement to many of our family members.

Times were different then. They certainly were.

61 thoughts on “Bringing Granddad Home

  1. There is something to be said for ‘doing the right thing’ for otherwise your Nan would have suffered even more with all that would have followed otherwise. Besides the circumstances, what a great family legacy story.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It makes you wonder though. If you did it at night, and didn’t tell anyone… 🙂
      The time of death would be wrong of course. That old family doctor probably didn’t mind, even if he realised.
      Best wishes, Pete.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. It’s a good thing they weren’t stopped on the drive home – there’d have been some explaining to do! On the other hand it makes sense. Why wouldn’t grandma call the kids for their help to bring grandpa back home. I rather like that everything was handled by the family.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I like that family aspect of it too. Unless they had an accident, or were speeding, they were unlikely to have been stopped. But I suppose they could have said he had died in the car! 🙂
      Best wishes, Pete.

      Liked by 2 people

  3. What a great story… your Nan obviously didn’t want Inspector Lynley, or any of the other famous inspectors, poking around to disturb your grandfather’s peace. I think I love the lot of them.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Since this story is “a source of great amusement”…
    (1) Nunhead Cemetery—Where are the heads?
    (2) Heybridge—Does the bridge every reply?
    (3) Edie’s husband was called Albert—Reminds me of Eddie Albert, who went on a Roman Holiday before marrying Eva Gabor and moving to Green Acres.
    (4) Did they rehearse the drive to Bermondsey?
    (5) The doctor was prepared to issue a death certificate with Angina Jolie as the cause. Your granddad should not have stayed up late watching “The Bone Collector.”

    Liked by 1 person

  5. As you said, things were different. Back then babies were often /routinely born at home, too.
    This could have been my family. One of my grandfathers was found sitting with his back against an oak tree on a bluff as if he was looking out over his farm and Lake Travis. It was far from roads and quite rural. He was fairly young.
    While I certainly can see the humor/comedy, somehow this seems also like a very warm story of family and the era
    (Darn if they often hid all the family tales from kids!)

    Liked by 1 person

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