When Dad became housebound in 2012 he was given Holy Communion regularly at home by Father Jude - the priest who had married my parents. At first, he refused to have the anointment of the sick, afraid, I think, that it may have signified that he was dying. Dad was stubborn and hated being sick. He’d only closed the shop once due to sickness in forty two years.
A few days before one of his visits, Father Jude had phoned me up out of the blue to ask how Dad was feeling. Father Jude explained that a friend had called, telling him of Peter’s declining health. I hadn’t spoken to Father Jude for years and blurted out my feelings to the poor priest. “He’s got no energy, he spends most of the time in bed. He’s had a chest infection since Christmas and hasn’t recovered; he’s having blood tests and regular transfusions. He wobbles when he walks, I’m worried he’s going to fall over, he’s very down. He can’t get out of the bath.”
