Welcome to my blog. I live, knit, crochet, spin and craft near the Northumbrian Coast (but not too near – the waves won't be splashing my yarn!).There's a story in every stitch, every grain of sand, every blade of grass. I thought I'd blog about it…
Today is the first anniversary of Kevin’s death. It’s made me reflect on the last year and how things have changed. Of course I still miss him every day, but the pain isn’t as raw as it was. I do still have the occasional wobble, for example if something has happened that I’d just love to tell him about.
I felt quite numb for those first few weeks. I buried myself in a complicated piece of knitting that required enough concentration to distract me from thinking about what had happened. Friends brought food and visited to check up on me. I gradually got through the “sadmin” : all those things that you have to do when someone dies.
Son and Daughter have been amazing. He still lives here and has taken over the care of Buddy the dog (who seemed to become totally fixated on Son). Daughter checks up on me almost daily and is over here regularly to help out with stuff.
They say that things happen for a reason. My mother died just over six weeks before Kevin – in many ways it prepared me for what was to come – registering the death, planning the funeral and so on. Most importantly I was kept very busy for those first few months, as we cleared my mother’s house. Keeping busy really helped. The house sold very quickly and that really put the pressure on, but we did it. I brought quite a bit of stuff back to mine, including 10 boxes of photographs and slides and I’m still going through those. Some of the items I will sell when I get round to it but not yet.
I learnt how to cook again. Kevin had done all the cooking for many years and he was really good at it. I’m getting better at batch cooking single portions and filling the freezer with those. Spending more time on my feet really brought my disability into painfully sharp focus, so I’ve really tried to do what I can to make things easier – I sought medical help which has led to me getting ankle supports and insoles to stabilise my feet and ankles. I’m using various aids around the house and in the longer term getting some adaptations made to home and garden to make things more manageable.
Someone who lost her husband some years ago gave me what has turned out to be a great pice of advice. She told me to never turn down an invitation. And I haven’t! It would be so easy to decline and say you aren’t up to it, but then it gets harder to say “yes” and I suppose eventually people would stop inviting you.
When Kevin was alive we always had our own interests as well as the things we enjoyed together. I gradually returned to all my usual activities: book club, choir, ukulele, my various craft groups and crochet teaching. This has kept me busy and involved: everyone has been so kind. I am truly blessed to have so many lovely friends and neighbours who are always there for me when I need their help. I have also continued to go to gigs, initially those we had already purchased tickets for, that Kevin would had gone to. Again, my lovely friends have supported me and come with me to concerts – of course I always think about Kevin and wonder what he would have thought of every performance but it doesn’t stop me enjoying them. I have more tickets booked for this year, though I haven’t quite caught up with my reviews on here. My blog has suffered a fair bit – time just gets away from me.
There have been some particularly difficult times over the year. Christmas was hard. I found myself signing Christmas cards from both of us and tearing them up. I realised when cards addressed to us both arrived that there were some people that didn’t know Kevin had died so I had to let them know. On Christmas Day itself there was no way I could recreate the wonderful roast goose that Kevin used to cook so Son, Daughter and I went out for lunch at a local restaurant, which was lovely, then to friends for drinks and a very enjoyable afternoon.
As life without Kevin has taken shape I have some new adventures to look forward to. In a couple of weeks I’m going on my first cruise, along with Daughter, my brother and his wife (they have been a great support too) . It was something I always fancied trying but I would never have got Kevin anywhere near a cruise ship. Next year sees an even bigger adventure. I’m going to Costa Rica for 11 days, joining a group tour with Limitless Travel, who specialise in making holidays accessible for disabled travellers.
I’m doing ok, and part of that is developing a “sink or swim” mentality. To a point I know that I have to keep going and I’m scared of going under but in doing that I have found more resilience than I ever knew I was capable of. I would also want to make him proud of me. I know that he would want me to live the best life I can possibly can. I’m giving it my best shot!
This month we passed bit of a milestone. It’s six months since Kevin died. At the time I couldn’t see what the future would look like without him. It all happened so suddenly and was something I’d never ever imagined could ever possibly happen.
The days soon afterwards are a bit of a blur now. I remember lots of visitors, dozens of cards, flowers, dear friends who came to keep me company, and brought food. It was so hard on the children, who both stepped up to look after me at the same time as they were dealing with their own grief.
They say things happen for a reason. As I was learning to deal with all of this we sold my mother’s house – she died just a few weeks before Kevin. My brother and I already begun to empty it, but things now had to speed up as our buyers were anxious to complete quickly having sold their own property. It was good to keep busy. Exactly what I needed in fact.
In the middle of all this I managed to get away for a much needed break with the children – a week on Orkney with Son and a week in Northwest Scotland with Daughter. It was the trip I would have made with Kevin, so it was very poignant. I couldn’t help but feel he should have been there. It was my first trip to Orkney and it was fascinating. A highlight was the ancient Skara Brae settlement.
I ended up bringing a lot of stuff home from Mum’s house and for a while my house resembled Steptoe’s Yard until I gradually decided what to do with everything. This included about 10 boxes of photos and slides, which I’ve begun to digitise – they take up far too much room otherwise. It has been fun sharing these with family members too.
I’ve also rediscovered cooking and I’m doing some work on the house, basically future-proofing it to make it more accessible and easier for me to manage. The first thing I did was extend and raise the level of the patio at the rear of the house to remove the steps – this has already made a huge difference.
I continue to go to gigs. I somehow feel closer to Kevin when I see live music. It’s how we met and was an interest we shared. He loved all the tech stuff, and whenever I see the sound/lighting/video technicians at work I think of him.
I have more to go to this year and more are booked for 2025, along with my first cruise, visiting the Norwegian Fjords. I’m really excited about that.
I also have returned to many of the groups and activities I did before and resumed teaching my crochet workshops.
Of course I miss Kevin every day but I’m doing ok. I like to think he’d be proud of me.
As it’s Halloween I wanted to share something that happened a few weeks ago – it was a bit spooky but at the same time just lovely. Some years ago Kevin bought me a a bracelet – it’s silver with freshwater pearls, very simple but I love it and wear it every day. I noticed that it was missing from my wrist and though I searched the house from top to bottom, it could not be found. I assumed that sadly I’d lost it when I was out somewhere and that was that. On my birthday I got up and went to the wardrobe to get out something to wear. As I reached up to grab a coat hanger, there, dangling from the clip that held a pair of jeans to the hanger, was the missing bracelet. It had been gone for over a week and I’d been in the wardrobe several times and not seen it. Why now on my birthday? Whatever the reason, it comforts me to believe that it was a birthday greeting from Kevin and I love that. He’s still with me.
Postscript
Thanks for all your lovely comments. They mean a lot. My lovely blog followers have been so kind and supportive over recent difficult months and I’m so grateful for that. From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU.
Once again I find myself indulging in some therapeutic writing. I wanted to write about Kevin’s funeral/celebration of life, with an explanation of why we chose the music, poetry, flowers and so on to make it about him.
We decided very quickly that Kevin’s beloved Labrador, Buddy would have to attend the funeral. Once again Kevin Foster, our funeral director organised the event for us with his usual calm efficiency and patience, as he had for Mum’s funeral a few weeks ago and he was totally amenable to that, even offering to walk with Buddy at the head of the cortege. We opted to keep Buddy in the car with us.
Kevin was not a religious man, so we opted for a humanist service at our new local crematorium at Bockenfield. We used the crematorium’s facility to livestream the service, as we had done with my Mum’s funeral. This has enabled many of our family and friends to take part who were unable to travel here because of distance, health or other committments. Our celebrant was Pauline Fellows, who visited us to plan the service. She was such a kind, gentle lady and very easy to work with.
We chose three pieces of music, all by bands we had seen perform. As we arrived. by Runrig played Gabriel’s Sword. The band originate in the Scottish Islands, where we spent many happy holidays and on our Scottish trips, Runrig’s music would always be playing in the car. Immediately after I read the eulogy, we listened the the very beautiful Everglow by Coldplay, another favourite band. All four of us went to see them once with friends. During this, a slide show of photographs of Kevin played. Finally we heard Beautiful Day by U2. We saw them many times and Kevin once introduced them live on stage, back in the day we were on the students’ Entertainment Committee at Sheffield University. They were supporting John Otway and Wild Willy Barrett at the time (this was a long time ago!)
Pauline had asked if we wanted to include a poem. It just happened that I’d bought a book of poetry for Kevin at Christmas. We had adopted the Icelandic tradition of Yulebokkflod a few years back, and gave each other a book on Christmas Eve. Earlier last year we had been visiting the Sill visitor centre at Twice Brewed, near Hadrian’s Wall, where there had been an exhibition about a new book, The Lost Spells, by Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris. It showed some of the beautiful illustrations alongside extracts from the poems which are all about the natural world, and with recordings in the background, featuring birdsong. It was stunning and I bought the book to give to Kevin.
The poem I chose was Gorse. This spiny yellow shrub is a common feature of our local landscape here in North Northumberland, where it is known as Whin and gives its name to the Whin Sill, a huge outcrop of volcanic rock on the coast. The verses describe how though gorse creates a spiky impenetrable barrier it also provides shelter for the creatures that nest and seek refuge within it its thickets. Kevin was like this too. He could be a bit spiky, but truly cared for the rest of us.
Gorse
Good luck trying to force your way through
Gorse! Better setting out across
a field of spears, a lake of pikes, a sky of
hawks, a hundred winters;
better getting dealt a thousand scratches
by a million splinters!
Out of crags and hedges, cliffs and ledges,
Gorse jags, spikes, crackles: raises
hackles, speaks sharply: Keep Out! Stay
Back! Get Off My Land!
Room is made by Gorse, though – space is
braced for redstart, rabbit,
wheatear, plover, quiet life is harboured in
its criss-cross places.
See into Gorse; get past its guard and pick
a path towards its well-defended
heart, the secrets kept within its limits.
Each of us is partly made of Gorse, of
course: prickly, cussed hard the parse
and tough to handle, all helter-skelter
points and angles – but only ever really
seeking love and giving shelter.
It’s a beautiful poem.
The flowers were by Polly’s Petals. Polly creates the most stunning naturalistic arrangements including wild flowers and foliage.
She created something beautiful to reflect the countryside that Kevin loved so much. It included bluebells, forget-me-nots, cherry blossom , rhododendron and wild foliage along with cream narcissus and lizzianthus.
There were also a few spikes of bright yellow gorse flowers to reflect our local landscape and the poem we chose.
Polly also added some pheasant feathers to continue the countryside theme.
The spray was made up in three sections, so Kevin’s sister, our daughter and I could each take part of it home.
Kevin loved following our local hunt, the Percy hounds, so at the end of the service, one of the hunt staff, Will, blew the hunting horn, sounding the long continuous note that is used to signal the end of a day’s hunting: Blowing for Home. Right on cue, Buddy, who had lain quietly all the way through, pricked up his ears and barked, just as he would if he heard the horn when he was out with Kevin on a hunting day.
Afterwards we went to one of Kevin’s favourite places, Rigg and Furrow – his favourite bar and the home of his favourite beer, Run Hop Run. We had spent many an hour over many a drink here in the brewery tap of this farm-based brewery, always loving the relaxed, fun atmosphere and the warm welcome. There was absolutely no other place we could have gone for the post-funeral reception, and when we asked they said it would be an honour to host it.
Kevin was an excellent cook and loved good food. He enjoyed trying locally made produce, so it was lovely to see some of our favourite Doddington’s cheeses being served.
There were also some tasty sweet and savoury baked treats, including some delicious sausage rolls, with either black pudding or pork and apple.
As those present shared their memories of Kevin over a drink and some food, we played some of his favourite music and ran a slideshow of photos.
We were overwhelmed by the turnout, which included people from so many different parts of Kevin’s life, some of whom had travelled a long distance to be there. He would have been really touched that so many came.
I’m so grateful to all that contributed to make the day such a perfect reflection of who Kevin was.
Today I went down to the sea with my current project. I didn’t do much work on it. I stared at the waves a lot. Things are not the same.
Two days ago K died following a massive heart attack. This comes only six weeks after the death of my mother. Once again I find myself writing here as therapy so please forgive the self indulgence and move on to something else if you need to.
Let me tell you about Kevin (I rarely used full names on here to preserve people’s anonymity so always referred to him on the blog as K). We’d been married for 37 years. He was my soulmate, my best friend, my lover, the father of our two amazing children and my carer too. My disability meant he did more for me practically than most partners have to.
We met at University. We were both on the Entertainments Committee that organised the gigs and discos in the Students Union. I was an undergraduate, he had finished a postgraduate course the year before and came up at weekends to work on the concerts with his Ents friends. That’s where our shared love of live music came from.
We were both science and nature nerds. When we first got together and he was walking me home one night, the entire conversation was about worms. It was quite a revelation to actually meet someone who knew the difference between a platyhelminth and an annelid (that’s a flatworm and a segmented worm, so now you know too).
We both worked in local government. We’ve had four homes over the years, in Lancashire and Northumberland. We have a son and a daughter, now grown up. Being a good father was always so important to Kevin. He always did his best for them both.
Since we both retired we’d developed new lives for ourselves that combined time together and separate interests, in his case fishing, geology, trail hunting and walking, with Buddy the Labrador. More recently , as a proud graduate of Newcastle University he’d become involved with the Alumni Network. He always gave 100% to everything he did.
Of course he wasn’t perfect. He had strong opinions that he wasn’t afraid to share, often online. We used to joke that he’d gone seamlessly from angry young man to grumpy old man.
Right now I’m grieving. I’m angry at the unfairness of it all. I’m feeling this massive hole in my life and I don’t know what the future will look like. Our two children are somehow managing to look after me on top of their own grief. I’m immensely proud of them and I know their dad would be too. I’m also overwhelmed by the love and support of family and friends.
I’m also grateful. I was so lucky to have this wonderful man in my life for 40 years and for the love we shared. He completed me. Kevin will always be in my heart.
I’ve heard that writing can be used as a form of therapy and self-indulgent as it might be, since the planning of my Mum’s funeral has taken up most of my headspace over the last couple of weeks, I do feel the need to write about it now.
For most of us, planning a funeral is something that we may have to do only once or twice in our lives if we are lucky. We want to do what our loved one would have wanted, often second guessing them as few leave behind plans to be followed. It’s certainly made me think about what I want to happen when the time comes, and how to make my wishes known to my family.
In arranging Mum’s funeral, all we knew was that she wanted to be cremated and to have a Christian service, so we came up with something that was in line with her faith, but at the same time very personal.
We agreed on a traditional funeral service at the church she attended for many years, St Michael and All Angels, Felton, followed by a short cremation service at the nearby Bockenfield Crematorium. Both the vicar, Rev Richard Townend and our funeral director, Kevin Foster gave us lots of help and support, which was greatly needed, having never done this before and not being either church goers or particularly religious. I asked my aunt about hymns (she used to attend church with my mum) and the vicar advised us on readings.
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The church is a beautiful old building dating back to around 1200 (you can read more about its history here). My brother and I visited it a couple of weeks before the funeral as we hadn’t been for ages. One of the reasons we wanted to do this was to check out the access as ancient buildings are not always the easiest for disabled visitors. The main path up to the church has some steep and uneven sections, so we decided to borrow a wheelchair for my aunt and that I would use my mobility scooter. The funeral director was able to obtain the wheelchair and ensured that there was space in the back of the funeral car for a folding scooter. There is a portable ramp at the steps into the church.
The church has kept up with the times , despite its medievals origins, to make it a more flexible space. A glass wall was erected to divide off the back of the church and this has created a soundproof space with all sorts of functions: it is used by the Sunday School children and to serve refreshments after services, with a hatch into the kitchen. Other additions to the church are toilets, a sound system and large screen tv. All have been added very sensitively and don’t detract at all from the old stonework and stained glass windows.
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Mum used to help with the flowers at church. She used to tell me how there were no flowers during Lent, then the church would be lit up with daffodils and other spring flowers on Easter Sunday. With this in mind we decided on flowers on the coffin only. Local florist Polly Smith of Polly’s Petals, an old school friend of my daughter made the most beautiful arrangement.
We met her during the saddest time, during the week after Mum’s death and spent a lovely hour with Polly by the wood-burning stove in the cabin where she works. Polly’s style is very much inspired by nature. The spray she created resembles a spring meadow, including tulips, ranunculus, spray and tea roses, iris, lizianthus and anemones, in shades of pink, purple and white with complementary foliage. The peachy pink roses were like my Dad’s favourite peach rose in the garden.
The. arrangement was made in four sections, each to be taken home afterwards by female close family members. Polly sets the flowers in moss rather than florists foam, which is plastic based and does not break down. She also planted surprises among the moss, some white crocus bulbs, just starting to sprout, which can be taken out and planted in the garden later.
Polly was an absolute pleasure to deal with, so kind at all times. She took all our requests on board and made suggestions of her own. She even had sample flowers to show us when we visited to give us an idea of what is in season and what she’d most likely be using. The result was stunning.
Music was important to my mum. She learnt to play the piano as a child and reached a high standard. She sang in choirs for many years, most recently The Bridge Singers, who played an important role in the service, their ranks swelled by the Swarland Community Choir. In the half hour before the service, as people were arriving, they sang a selection of songs, including some of Mum’s favourites. Notes of the song list and the reasons they were included were placed around the church.
The Choir also provided a lovely alternative to the more traditional organ music to accompany the congregational hymns. People were given the option of joining in or sitting to listen to the choir’s harmonies and contemplate the words. Their versions of “All Things Bright and Beautiful” and “How Great Thou Art” were beautiful. Their rendition of the very Scottish folk song, The Parting Glass, a favourite of Mum’s was very moving. I’m so grateful to the choirs and Musical Director Cheryl Camm for everything they did to make Mum’s service so special.
We have extended family and friends all over the world, including in India, Australia and the USA, as well as throughout the UK. Distance, health issues, work and other commitments made it impossible for quite a number of people to travel to the funeral. At the suggestion of one of my cousins, we arranged for the funeral to be live-streamed , with the option of watching later. Dejavu Video did a superb job – the videographer was unobtrusive and the video quality was excellent. I’ve had some great feedback from those who watched it. You can see it here.
As well as the eulogy I read, other personal touches were a favourite poem of Mum’s, Sea Fever by John Masefield read by my brother and the bible verses read by my daughter. I was so proud of them both for getting through it. Also, a lovely lady who is an ordained minister, and knew Mum said prayers.
Over 80 people attended the church, after which immediate family went to a brief cremation ceremony at nearby Bockenfield Crematorium. This has been open for quite a short time: a much needed facility in this area. It is very well designed, simple and airy, with covered space outside and speakers in case the numbers overflow and a covered walkway for family to meet guestsafter the service, There are even comfortable sofas for close family at the front. The centrepiece is a beautiful antique wrought iron farm cart, that acts as a bier for the coffin.
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A recording of one of Mum’s favourite piano pieces, Chopin’s Nocturne No.2 in E flat played as we went in, and Louis Armstrong’s “We Have All the Time in the World” played at the end, as it did at my Dad’s cremation.
Following that we joined the guests at The Northumberland Arms, Felton for refreshments. They had been a pleasure to deal with too and served a delicious hot and cold buffet.
It was an emotional, long day, but it went off without a hitch and it was lovely to share memories of Mum with family and friends, old and new. She would have loved it!
Today was the funeral of my lovely Mum, Gillian. I wrote and delivered this eulogy at the service we held for her today.
My Mum, Gillian was born in Newcastle on 15th February 1937, the first child of Ken and Wyn Holloway. I’m told that her form of the name (Gillian with a hard G) came from a character in a book that my grandmother had read. Mum was followed by her brothers: Peter in 1941 and Michael in 1946 .
Some of Mum’s earliest memories are of WWII. Once, on hearing a news broadcast on the wireless, she asked her mother if there was any news on the radio when there was no war on. During an air raid she huddled under the stairs with her mother who was holding her baby brother Peter. My Granny prayed, “God save my babies”, over and over again – that always makes me want to cry. The children spent happier times when, accompanied by their mother and cousins, Pat and Michael Porter and Anita, they were evacuated to the village of Ingoe, where they stayed in a very spartan cottage – there was no running water, just a hand pump at the end of a very steep lane, but they loved the countryside.
After the war the family enjoyed holidays on the coast and fell in love with Newton-by-the- Sea. My grandfather rented and later bought a secluded former quarry, a beautiful sheltered spot, where a series of family caravans have been sited ever since. The children spent idyllic summers there and on the beach.
Mum attended Newcastle Church High School, where she enjoyed sport (apparently she once accidently knocked out the games mistress with a hockey stick). She was in the South North’land Tennis Club .She also learnt to play the piano to a high standard. It was while she was still a schoolgirl that Mum first noticed my dad.
The family would go along to watch my grandfather compete in motorcycle trials There was a handsome young competitor, a rising star in the sport named Arthur Brown. Mum was smitten!
Mum left school after O levels, doing well in most subjects, including Latin – her party piece was to recite Humpty Dumpty in Latin. Mum did fail her geography O level though, which my Dad teased her about a lot – when they were out in the car it’s amazing that they ever reached a destination because he’d never ask her to navigate and he (typical man) would never ask for directions.
After school Mum went to commercial college and trained as a secretary. Her first job was at Martins Bank, after that she worked at was to become Proctor and Gamble – Mum became secretary to the Marketing Director. and was there when they developed the jingle for “mild green Fairy Liquid” She actually knew the second verse to that.
By this time Mum and Dad were going out. My grandfather was not exactly supportive at first (nobody was good enough for his daughter) – sometimes Dad took Mum to the same pub that my grandparents visited, always picking secluded seats by the back door for a quick getaway if the bar staff tipped them off that her parents had come in the front.
Mum and Dad married in 1958 and set up home in South Shields, where Dad was born and worked. Mum continued to work at Proctor and Gamble until I came along in 1960. My brother Chris arrived 3 years later. My parents first home was in Leafield Crescent, and a few years later they moved to Harton Grove. We had lovely neighbours in both places. When we were very small there were coffee mornings with lots of other small children and their Mums, Nan would babysit on Thursday night and my parents would have a night out. I also have lovely memories Mum taking us to the beach at South Shields, summers spent at Newton by the Sea and family holidays in Scotland and sailing on the Norfolk Broads.
On one sailing holiday the boat ran aground, Mum jumped ashore to push the boat off, but as she did so a gust of wind filled the sails and off went went leaving her behind. She was soon picked up by a motor cruiser which caught up alongside and Mum leapt gracefully from one boat to the other. It was so exciting
As we got older, Mum joined Dad working in the family motorcycle business, his father began, running the office and serving in the shop. She still managed to be home when we got back from school though. She looked after us and Dad and our pets (the guinea pigs, gerbils , hamsters, tortoise, fish) – the dog, Brett was all hers though.
Alongside all this she was also involved in the local church and, when my brother joined the scouts, Mum became heavily involved in a parents fundraising group, organising events like jumble sales and some rather raucous but very well supported cheese and wine parties …..and the scouts all the camping equipment they needed.
By this time Dad had joined the Rotary Club and Mum became a founder member of Harton Inner Wheel, resulting in more great friends. I’m told the conferences were particularly good fun, down to the great company of her fellow Inner Wheel ladies – she continued to meet them for lunch every month.
In the 1980’s Mum and Dad sold the business and both worked for the Motor Agents Association. Mum’s role was as a monitoring officer for a Youth Training Scheme. She checked up on trainees as they attended college and work placements, as mechanics, car salespeople and other roles in the industry, and soon became a familiar figure on garage forecourts and car showrooms across the area She told me that she’d feel so proud when years later, taking her car in for a service she meet a former trainee who’d done well following the scheme.
She became a mother in law for the first time when Kevin and I married in 1987. My only regret about our wedding is that we missed the after party. While we were travelling to our honeymoon destination, Harton Grove was partying hard. I’ve seen the photographs.
The following year Mum and Dad moved to Swarland. It was a carefully thought out choice, being close to the A1 for easy travel and near the coast, but just about out of reach of the sea fret. They loved it, totally embracing village life. They joined the golf club, Mum got Russ the labrador. She helped to run the Brownies (where she was known as Grey Owl), organised front of house for the drama group and joined the church here at Felton, helping with the flowers . She also rekindled her love of music singing in choirs, most recently the Bridge Singers.
Mum was a devoted grandmother to Caitlin and Calum. Whenever we visited for a weekend and arrived late on a Friday night, Mum would insist on chasing me and Kevin out to the Pub, however tired we were “Because I know you don’t get out much just the two of you”. Then she’d relish getting the children ready for bed and reading them stories. When the children were older they would come on longer visits without us, which they absolutely loved. Mum would make their favourites: apple pie, green jelly. And there was the magic turtle – a tiny ornament that would mysteriously fill up with sweeties when you weren’t looking.
Importantly, Mum made wonderful friends in the village and had the best of neighbours. The kettle was always on and the gin and tonics were always available, they even had a gate between their garden and that of their neighbours Hazel and Trevor, which saved time when they shared refreshments in the garden.
My brother Chris married Christine 2003. Ever the optimist, Mum had become convinced they would announce their engagement long before they actually did. In fact a bottle of champagne was put in and out of the fridge every time they visited over several months until it could be opened to celebrate properly
Mum looked after my father when he became ill. His death in 2002, not long after her own father’s death, hit Mum very hard, but she told me that if his death had to happen, at least it happened in Swarland, the place where they had been so happy and she was surrounded by so much love and support.
When we moved up here that Christmas it gave Mum the boost she needed .She looked after us too, and was delighted to be able to spend so much time with her beloved grandchildren.
The following Christmas Mum threw the first of her legendary Swarland parties. I think initially she wanted to do it as a thank you for all the support everyone had given her, but it soon became an annual event, with food, drink (the Strictly Final usually) and lots of friends and their offspring. Someone once told me that Christmas wasn’t really Christmas until Gillian’s Party.
Mum loved to travel. Holidays with Dad included Hawaii, California and Crete. Later she went on some epic trips with her sister in law Pat, to India, China, Canada and Alaska, South Africa and more, experiencing the Taj Mahal, The Great Wall, dog sleds and and safari. When this started we began to refer to it as Gillian’s Gap Year, but the travel went on longer than that. Pat told me about when they went to Thailand for a wedding. The Buddhist monks arrived to officiate and sat cross legged on the floor. Mum, always wishing to repect customs and culture sat down cross legged too. Only then the translator said the English visitors didn’t have to and she wondered how she’d get back up.
She also had some great holidays with her dear friend Margaret. They visited a number of European cities and went ski-ing in La Tania in the French Alps with my brother, Chris. She was extremely proud that she finally got her pensioners free lift pass aged 75. She also travelled to the USA for her niece, Julia’s wedding and then again in 2016 to visit her brother Michael and his wife Donna.
Mum’s health declined 6 years ago following an unusual mental illness. This came as a huge shock to all of us as Mum has always been the most grounded, level , calm person, and an absolute rock to so many. She recovered from this, though was frailer than before and then the symptoms resurfaced in 2022. Again she recovered but was frailer again. With the support of some wonderful carers she was able to continue to live in her own home in Swarland, the place she and Dad loved so much.
Mum had been really enjoying February. It was her turn to host our book club and we had a lovely evening. We drove to South Shields to have lunch with the Inner Wheel Ladies AND she celebrated her 87th birthday, with a family meal at the Cook and Barker. As usual, Mum ordered her favourite fish and chips, complained that it was far too big, before demolishing it, and dessert… and birthday cake! It was a wonderful evening. She was looking forward to meeting up with her nieces Judy and Wendy and great nieces Lauren and Juliet the following month.
Mum passed away suddenly on 23rd February. We had seen her ealier in the day and she was in good spirits. It’s still sinking in that she’s gone. I keep thinking “oh I must tell Mum about that” – I bet I’m not the only one.
As I wrote this there seemed to be some common themes running through Mum’s long, well-lived life. They make me think we should all be more like her.
She loved her family more than anything
She cared, and continued to care for all of us, whenever we needed her,
always putting others before herself . She could always be depended on and was everyone’s rock
She valued friendship and kept in touch with friends that she’d made at every stage of her life
She had a great sense of adventure and a wicked sense of humour
She was one of the most positive people I have ever known, always seeing the best in people and finding something good in even the worst of situations.
Stitches by the Sea 