My Dad
Two weeks and five days ago my Dad died. It happened suddenly. His heart stopped. He was at home. Sat in his favourite arm chair. Watching TV with his youngest Grandson sat by his feet. He had just been out to tend to his beloved garden, accompanied by my youngest son and by his wife, my Mum. He was exactly where he wanted to be, after living a good life. Two days ago, we celebrated his life at his funeral. We wore his favourite colour, green. We thought of the good times. There were beautiful flowers and a casket of willow. This is my tribute to him. Bri Mitchell 21 October 1936 to 3 November 2014 My Mum and Dad, aged Eighteen My Dad, Bri Mitchell, was one of the kindest, caring, and most genuine men you could have had the pleasure to have known. One of life’s good people. As you will see from the photo of him and my Mum when t...