If I could tell you...

Sometimes I take your wig from the middle drawer. I scrunch it under my nose inhaling the very essence of you..the sense of smell evoking distant memories...I picture you sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, a smile inviting me to sit and chat....I miss our chats...a lot.


45 years of memories in the making..I can remember a long way back, I sometimes wonder if the old black and white photographs depicting a cute family at the Zoo trick me into thinking  I can recall that visit clearly. The photo includes a spider monkey dressed in stripey trousers with a blazer and a small hat, a long tail hanging down. It is perched on your head! I do not have any memory of the monkey, but weirdly of the photo being taken, captured on camera by a man walking round the zoo for that sole purpose.

Debbie your eldest and I dressed in the same striped dress, one red and white, one navy and white...occasionally David your youngest would join in...not with a dress - but I recall the yellow jumpers with a strip of fairisle...one red, one green and one navy. You knitted them all, you often sewed outfits (mostly matching) for each of us.

Christmas ...you were 'Christmas'...always....you still are..second to Jesus.

The bunk beds I shared with Debbie just 21 months older than me, proved ideal for those early years of teasing..apparently I was born with this gene.

I only ever recall knowing you were Father Christmas. I must have been about 5 years old, pretending to sleep soundly, mimicking gentle snoring noises, stifling giggles as you carefully placed the rustling pillowcase full of carefully selected small presents - individually wrapped.

I waited patiently...all of 3 minutes for you to go downstairs..before I quietly and carefully slid to the end of the bed...and in the dark opened each one to discover it's contents...then tried to rewrap them, so no one would suspect.

This I realise was quite futile, as I rarely could work out in the dark what each one was. Content that I had at least tried, I slept soundly until  6am...the allowed time to wake the household...with jubilant excitement.

As I had a vague idea of all the items (carefully duplicated) I could tell Debbie each one before she opened it...not sure mum, how you felt about that...an argument first thing on Christmas Day!

(I did the same thing years later when we were all together for Christmas..at about 40 years old...as you were still giving us the same presents...so special.)

You would then lead us downstairs where the big presents awaited...carefully set out to avoid confusion...one year a crib each for our dolls with a curtain draped around, in my a huge panda, and in Debs an equally giant blue teddy...hers had a bell in it's ear...well I'm just saying..

A dolls pushchair each, for the big girl a blue proper looking pushchair...for the youngest girl..one covered in nursery rhymes. Just a thought to anyone that thinks a 5 year old doesn't notice the attention to detail.  I remember wanting to be grown up like my big sister. Fond memories that lasted right up to your last Christmas with us...

Your budget that stretched more and more each year as you accumulated, son in laws, daughter in laws and 13 grandchildren and eventually step children and 6 step grandchildren..."I can only afford
£10 each you would announce shortly before Christmas"..."what would they like".

I think all of my siblings, in laws, nieces, nephews and children will readily agree that you worked miracles with that '£10'...Mmm how much did you end up spending? Your favourite was to wrap lots of little things and watch our faces light up with delight or laugh out loud at a silly gift you included...but always there would be one special item, to make us all feel loved.

You knew I would miss my 'stocking' when on honeymoon in Australia, so at the age of 25 you ensured I didn't go without and gave it to Pete before we left. I sure did feel special when he left it on my bed for when I woke up. You never failed to surprise me. It was just as well as Pete had not been trained in the 'art' of 'Mum's' Christmas tradition and didn't realise he had to buy any presents!

Christmas is possibly the hardest time without  you, the first one after you left, I didn't want to 'do' Christmas...how could we...you were not leading the way..no phone call to discuss the children's desires..no jokes about possible gifts...

Trawling the card shops for Pete's mums card was painful...I could hardly bring myself to read them..I wanted to throw them all off the neat shelves like confetti over the shop floor, I wanted to scream..."no....no cards ever again..Christmas is cancelled".

But it wasn't ..it isn't - because you instilled in all three of us that giving is a gift in itself... making
family memories, spending quality time together, embodied in Love...and so Christmas came, and as always Jesus was the reason...then you mum, you were with us, all that you ever shared with us was continued.....Christmas traditions you set up when we were little...just another generation...to be
passed on and on. Pure Love.Thank you for that, 'Mrs Christmas'...it's good to know your are still with us, if not in person, but in each of our hearts.

As we grew up, you worked hard to love us and treat us equally, you embraced who we all were. Life

had it's complications for sure...but ultimately Love did conquer all.

You tried to treat us all fairly, loving us all, ..but David was and still is 'mummy's boy'. The baby of the family, you two were like two peas in a pod. Never separating without tears...sometimes when Dave just popped to the corner shop. It was never an issue..just an acceptance of the very special bond you two shared. You had the same bond with me and Debs...just think Dave had the edge lol x

Your amazing walk with breast cancer, originally 6 years before it returned...you were always upbeat, stoic, humble, never complaining, enjoying the good times, keeping us buoyant in the bad. Only once did you get upset...when I insisted you moved in with us as your house was to far away...you always put on a brave face, so I couldn't trust you to ask for help when needed...you were so sad you couldn't bring your cat...we live on a main road and she didn't like people so would have been scared with a family of four boys.

"Cancer spoils everything" you said on the day you had to part with her and the house that you and Our stepdad Barry lovingly shared, before he was victim to a rare bile duct cancer...just months earlier..but that was it, the only time you spoke out...with acceptance comes Peace and you soon rallied round to being cheerful, visiting friends, helping with housework, walking Rosie, our golden retriever.

One day on a 'Rosie' walk we were strolling back to the car through the woods, the sun streaming
though the trees. I noticed tears running down your cheeks.."Are you ok? Are you in pain" I questioned.

"No, Im  just grateful to God for another day".

Tears of joy and gratitude to Our Saviour ...living with terminal cancer, you taught us how to live one
day at a time...because 'tomorrow is never promised.'

Content through the discomfort and pain of chemotherapy, smiling in the face of a disease that was ravaging through your body, you were testimony to God's Grace. You shone like the brightest star, always.

I don't know if I ever confessed that I prayed you would pass into eternity whilst you slept. I was so
afraid of being with you if they ever said you had 'x amount' of time to live. I didn't want you to ever have to face death head on..not imminently, I was scared for you.

My lack of faith meant each morning when I took you a cup of tea, I held my breath..had The Lord answered my prayers? I only allowed myself to breathe again, once you moved. Rosie would come In with me smiling and wagging her tail, she would bring you a soft toy, then exchange it with your slipper and leave. The morning you died she stayed by the door, sad...as If she knew.

But Thankfully God had a much better plan, so I could have saved myself that agony for 18 months.

On your 67th birthday Dave and I went with you to see your oncologist, Jane. It was the moment I had feared..."I'm sorry she said, your liver has stopped working, it's given up".

We had originally thought you would have three months when they diagnosed the cancer as terminal..and this was two years later, Praise God, but still too soon for any of us to say goodbye to you.

We came home, you were quite poorly and walked fairly slowly. You had not cried or looked afraid, it was as if you knew already, God had prepared you.

We lit the candles on your cake and sang happy birthday. It was the hardest song I've ever sang.

You blew them out and smiled...I went next door and howled.

Your 'party' started and as you became more frail, the party continued. Word got out, and all your lovely loyal friends, and loving family came In their droves..travelling many miles..a constant pilgrimage to come and say goodbye to one of the loveliest and kindest people to walk on this earth.

Some prayed, a group of us sang, most laughed with you, many giggles coming from your room. You  didn't shed one tear...'The Peace of God that passes all understanding was yours".

Somehow we managed to end up with 3 commodes,a special hospital bed that prevented sores and oxygen on tap if you needed it. Laurie your eldest granddaughter came to help look after you. A sister in charge of a cancer ward - The Lord provided ALL that you needed, when you needed it.

I'm really sorry, I think in all the busyness I forgot to feed you :(... Although you were not very hungry. Our kitchen looked like a cake shop ....and Belinda joked that only I could be having a party in one room...when my mum was dying in the other.

Those were incredibly precious days, a party of all parties...poignant and precious. When everyone had come,everything had been said...on the Friday morning, you looked at me and gently said "I'm feeling weary - when all the visitors have gone, I'll go if you don't mind".

That was 830am and the doctor came and confirmed that you still had a strong heartbeat, and your lungs were surprisingly ok. He said you wouldn't be going anywhere very soon. I followed him out and told him that you had a strong relationship with God so you might go quicker than he expected,
as that was your hope and desire.

And you did, the visitors left, you spoke to uncle Ron as he was abroad, the younger grandchildren went to bed. Your three children - (our other halves were bravely continuing with life as we didn't know how long you would be with us) - three of your older grandchildren, altogether by candlelight round your bed.

We all held your hands as you went into a deep sleep and continued to pray The Lord would come and take you home.

Suddenly I started praying so loud like an American preacher, saying things like "mum the gates are opening, look at the light mum, it's Jesus face, remember He promised you would see His face when He called your name...go mum,go...I don't recall thinking about what I was saying.."

David thought I had flipped as I had never shouted so loud, he was about to stop me and suggest we were all tired as it was one in the morning and that we should try again after some sleep.

But then you went, you took your last breath...we all stood still..then I was shouting 'she has gone, she has gone"...but after 2 mins you took one more deep breath..and I shrieked "She's back,she's back".

You made us laugh mum. All your life you set out to make us happy, right up to your very last breath you made us laugh...what an awesome gift.

I cannot believe that if God had answered my selfish prayers, you would have missed out on the best party that started on your birthday and lasted right through to your journey into Heaven So peacefully, only 5 days later.

I am never going to suggest anything to God again as his plans are way better than mine.

 The next day I was standing, holding onto the kitchen table and asking God to explode me into a zillion pieces, I was begging Him. I realised That He had graciously talked us through your passing into eternity.

What an amazing gift..we had tasted His Glory, if we had seen anything we would surely have had to go with you. I realised our bodies are too small a vessel to fit in His amazing and endless Glory...we had only had a tiny taste of it..it was out of this world and I craved that feeling we had experienced as you left us..you mum, were enjoying it in it's fullest, Hallelujah.

 Praise The Lord you knew Him, only for a year, but then it only has to be for a minute..if you call on The name of The Lord you will be saved... />

You were an inspiration to each one of us, as James your eldest grandson, said at your celebration of life, you lit up any room you walked into. You shone, you are still shining...

Your baby boy is just like you, now undergoing chemotherapy and radiotherapy he is sporting the same smile, the same anxiety for those he loves not for himself...I wish in one way you were here to hug each one of us, to keep encouraging us, that all will be well...but then I am grateful you are not here to worry about him, as it would break your heart...you would have wanted to exchange places.

A lifetime of worry, you always said that mothers worry about their children no matter how old they get. You were the one telling us to keep safe, to text when we arrived at our destination...you were right mum...no-one worries about me in quite the same way....even though they love me.

There are so many memories that you gave us all mum, we are still recalling them on a daily basis, you are evident in our daily lives...we could all write a whole book about how wonderful and special you Were. This blog doesn't even scrape the surface of how much you meant to us all.

You never judged a soul, but loved everyone...accepting us all for who we are...giving us the love and confidence to grow old graciously... You instilled the love into our children, and they in turn will pass it onto their children...whom you would have adored.

As the circle of life continues, I will keep hugging your wig from time to time, inhaling the beautiful scent you left behind...until we meet again.

God Bless you and thank you mum x