A photo of my father, taken a few hours after his death.
At my request, the undertaker allowed me to help him prepare the body
for cremation. Born in Gisborne in 1904 he died in Auckland at the age of 92.

I’m sorry that I didn’t take more care with organising his top lip. It’s come out looking
a bit lopsided, and I could see that at the time but somehow I lost my nerve. I should
have been more patient.

Overall though, helping the undertaker in this way was a positive thing to do, healthy
in many ways, a natural conclusion.

I’ve been thinking about this event a lot lately because I’m writing down as many of my early
memories as possible, and naturally my father is a frequent player in many of these.