I WOULD like to thank everybody who contacted me following last week’s column about the loss of my mum.

I was inundated with heartfelt messages of love and support which touched me greatly.

The column was shared through social media and I found myself responding to hundreds of messages, not only from people who knew my mum but also complete strangers who identified with my family’s heartache.

Losing a parent is a universal experience and I can see from people’s comments how deeply the scars run many years after a loss.

I wrote and delivered the eulogy at my mum’s funeral. It was the most difficult task I’ve ever undertaken.

I’m used to public speaking, but this was something else.

Talking for five minutes about my mum was an ordeal as I struggled to keep my composure. I got through it somehow and I’m glad I did.

It was a celebration of her life.

I talked about her love for her family and friends, and I also touched on her quirks, which heralded much needed laughter into the church.

She loved to talk. Sometimes it was hard to get a word in edgeways.

She had a knack of mangling the English language and would get things wrong – she always called the Trafford Centre the Traffic Centre.

And she would come out with unintentionally daft one liners.

Once she said in all seriousness: “I’m not going to hospital for the good of my health, you know.”

So many people from every stage of mum’s life attended the funeral reception afterwards.

There were some tears and lots and lots of laughter.

It struck me that the one person who would have loved to have been there was mum.

She would have revelled in the opportunity to catch up on everyone’s news, to hear the gossip, to throw in her own tit-bits.

Which makes you think that death is completely the wrong time to have a celebration of somebody’s life.

Much better, don’t you think, to have a party while you are still alive and healthy enough to appreciate how much you are loved.

You do hear of people doing this, holding a living wake.

It did make me think of the following, though.

What if somebody orchestrated his or her own funeral reception but didn’t tell anyone they were still alive.

Just so they could eavesdrop on the conversations over the vol-au-vents, before stepping out from behind a curtain to thank everyone for their kind tributes.

What a shock it might be, however, if the funeral guests spoke frankly about their relief such a nasty piece of work had finally passed on.

Make sure you’re not that person.