From Facebook archives ...
I noticed a funeral at the end of our street this morning, which is how I learned that Flo-across-the-road-has passed away.
Not a surprise as she was 89 and had suffered from COPD and asthma for years.
When Phil and I moved here (1987) she, her spinster sister Joan and their aged parents lived there.
The dad went first.
On my wedding day to Phil, Flo, Joan and their mum twitched the bedroom net curtains all morning. Until Mum waved at them as we got in the car and they whipped the net curtain behind their heads and waved gaily back.
The mam went next.
When Phil first fell ill I bumped into Flo and Joan up the village and they asked if he was in hospital as they'd noticed he was off work, then not seen him but had spotted me driving the car at hospital visiting times.
For a moment I was horrified that people had taken such note of our comings and goings.
Then I felt comforted to have caring neighbours looking out for and after us.
Which they continued to do; especially as my car headlights would flood their living room whenever I reversed up the drive coming home.
Flo once came dashing over with her dad's walking stick when she saw Fester was having trouble getting out of the car, and realised he’d pulled his back.
Joan's lungs packed up over ten years ago, but their brother and sister-in-law live at the end of the street so Flo wasn't entirely alone.
If the boys escaped or wandered as toddlers, Flo would knock on my door to let me know.
When Lisacat was run over she brought the distraught car driver to my door and comforted us both.
She's been in and out of hospital so frequently the past couple of years that I didn't notice her not there.
But I shall miss her watching over us.
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