Hearing the familiar call of the raven, I turned to face the tombstones lined up row after row.
‘We are gathered here today for the death of Joe,’ the priest announced in the churchyard.
Dressed in black and hearing sobs from the group surrounding me, I took a moment to reflect.
I hope this is what you wanted Dad.
Clutching on to my mum Mary, 51, we cried in unison.
At just 14, I had taken on the task of arranging my beloved father’s funeral, after losing him to lung cancer.
Worried that my grief-stricken mum would be unable to manage the stress of arranging plans, I agreed to
