To have the Dowling siblings in charge of your final arrangements might be regarded as rank misfortune. Luckily Gladys was clear about what she wanted: nothing
My Aunt Gladys died. She was 93, and I had been warned the end was approaching, but then it came pretty quickly – early one Friday morning. My brother texted me the news.
When we were small she insisted we refer to her only as Beautiful Aunt Gladys. She signed all our birthday cards “Love from Beautiful Aunt Gladys”, or just “B.A.G.” Between ourselves we called her Bag for short, but we never forgot what it stood for.
