On Friday morning I decided to finally phone round utility companies and suchlike to tell them Dad had died and that’s why direct debits had been cancelled, to please cancel his account, etc. I expected this to be a fairly easy task.

I was quite surprised when I started crying halfway through my call with TV Licencing – the first call of the day. I then cried my way through 4 other calls before deciding that maybe I could leave HMRC to the executors after our meeting tomorrow.

It wasn’t that I expected to be OK about him dying yet: just that I expected the words to come easier, to be OK about saying the words “you haven’t been paid because he died in December”. I think I just assumed that I would be able to disassociate a businesslike phone call from my thoughts and feelings about him dying.

Tomorrow should be fun. Tissues on standby.

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