Less than a week after Aunty Grace's funeral, Uncle Les also died. When I saw him at A Grace's funeral, he invited us back to their house because we don't often have a family get-together. He never got back to his house from the funeral, and we all met up again for his funeral.My aunt first married in 1942. The best man was Les Jones. Her husband was killed at Arnhem and in 1995, my aunt, having been a war widow for years, married Les Jones. My cousin emailed:
"They do say that it is the best man's duty to look after the bride, should anything befall the bridegroom. It took him a while, but he did eventually perform that duty."When they married they'd hoped, they'd have ten years of companionship before one died, but they managed fifteen.
Les was bright, but confined to a wheelchair. He had problems which made eating and talking at the same time impossible. During the refreshments after my aunt's funeral Les choked on some food. My god daughter, a nurse, kept him alive until the first paramedic arrived, within 7½ minutes of my cousin's 999 call. Les was taken to hospital where, suffering from inhalation pneumonia and a collapsed lung, he arrested again, was resuscitated, but died peacefully with friends and relatives around him. My cousin emailed:
"Had he recovered sufficiently to be discharged from hospital he would have had very poor quality of life, and would almost certainly have had to go into residential care, which he had long resisted with all his not inconsiderable power. He was 93, so once again I believe it was his time to go and be reunited with my mother."
