Another Coincidence.

When my mother first met the man who was to become my father she found that his family included a younger sister called Hilda. The two women recognised one another immediately. They had been close friends as children, but had lost touch when my mother’s family moved from the area. They were both twenty six at the time.

As far as I know, the two women didn’t become particularly close. My parents separated eight years after they were married, and then a few years after that Auntie Hilda moved with her husband to Coventry. I don’t think they ever saw one another again.

But then something interesting happened. Fifty years after they’d been ‘reunited,’ my mother died at twenty past eleven on the night of 9th August. I learned when I called my cousin the next day that Hilda had died at midnight – just forty minutes later.

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On an unconnected note, don’t trust your comments count today. If you haven’t already noticed, Google is well up the creek. Suggest you go into Comments and check them.