Strange Sally Diamond

I have pancreatic cancer. It started out as back pain a few months ago and a consultant in Dublin confirmed it was terminal. I think it’s very advanced now, so you shouldn’t have to mind me for long. If it goes on longer than six weeks, I’ll ask you to ring Angela to get me moved to some godawful palliative care unit. Also, if I lose consciousness, you will call her. I know you don’t like speaking on the phone but you’ll do it because you’re a smart girl.

As regards my funeral arrangements, I realize that I was never clear about the details so please ring O’Donovan’s undertakers in Roscommon. Angela will help you with that. Ordinarily, I should be buried with your mother above in Dublin, in Glasnevin, but you know I don’t like Dublin much. You and I are alike in that way.

The accounts are all up to date. You have a bank account with the AIB in Roscommon town. The manager there is Stuart Lynch. He’ll be understanding and there is more than enough money in that account to tide you over until probate goes through and you inherit everything. Your mother came from a wealthy family, and we have lived frugally specifically so that you could enjoy a debt-free life after my death. Our solicitor is Geoff Barrington at Shannonbridge. He knows everything he needs to know about you, and he’ll make sure you are well looked after. He knows things that you don’t know, but we’ll get to that later.

I’d like the funeral service to be held in St John’s Church of Ireland in Lanesborough. It’s such a pretty church and the graveyard is a nice spot. I’m not going to make too many demands, but I’d love if you could arrange for the choir to sing ‘Be Thou My Vision’. I was in the school choir when I was a little boy. That was my favourite song, because we used to change some of the words around to make each other laugh. Oh dear, we got up to some mischief in those days. I am rambling.

You don’t have to attend the funeral if you don’t want to, but I would like you to be there if you think you can manage it. I don’t think there’ll be more than ten people there and you’ll know all of them. Some of the nosey parkers from Carricksheedy might show up but you could ignore them. I think I have given you enough trouble already and you will have a busy week, so I’d like you to take things slowly. Please don’t read the next part of the letter until next week.

Your loving Dad

I finished the whiskey and rang Angela. ‘There has to be a funeral,’ I said.