My Mum was an incredibly special person. Larger than life and full of it too, she was one of a kind, as many have said. I will miss her more than words can say.
She made an impression on everyone she met: once seen, never forgotten, we used to joke, but it appears to have been the case for Mum. From friends and family to bank tellers and nurses, they have all told us what a lovely lady she was, how she made them laugh, and how sorry they were to hear of her passing. The comments have been humbling and overwhelming. We knew she wasn’t to everyone’s taste – who is? – but her many and varied friends showed she was popular, and it’s only since she became ill that we
discovered just how highly she was thought of.
A heartfelt thank you to everyone who sent any messages, in whatever form, to those who helped her in her final months, to those who were able to visit her (unfortunately limited due to COVID), and to everyone who has come today. It really was appreciated by Mum, as it is by us.
I know Mum was touched by the messages that came when she was in hospital and later in the hospice – they were the reasons for the few times I saw tears in her eyes in those final weeks.
For she never complained of the pain or prognosis, never bemoaned her fate or situation. I know she did shed a few tears, but they were kept from me – still trying to protect me, bless her. The most her pain showed was in facial expressions and the occasional deep sigh when something like climbing into bed was a challenge. I remain in awe of her bravery and strength (or sheer bloody-mindedness!).
She was a talented artist, a great cook and passionate gardener, and a loving and giving person. Determined and bossy but with the best of intentions and a heart of gold, she brought us up with solid values and the strong belief that we should help others and put others first.
I am so proud of her and am honoured to be her daughter.
She did not have an easy life. There were operations as a child on her knees, and her parents thwarted her wish to go into the forces and see the world. She was close to her dad and absorbed his love and knowledge of gardening, which she carried throughout her life.
Though she’d hate me to dwell on it, Mum had many health challenges over the years, from dislocated discs in her back and operations that didn’t go to plan, to serious illnesses like pleurisy, and in the last 20 years, bones that broke badly and didn’t heal properly, causing nerve damage along the way. She was left with an ankle that didn’t flex, a leg that gave her constant pain, and hands that wouldn’t grip and lost feeling, but although sometimes frustration was evident, she bore it all with the strength, determination and positive attitude that was part of her DNA. She didn’t like to talk about it, which sometimes caused problems in medical appointments!
She married my dad in 1970 and a few years later I came along, then Francis followed. She had to deal with my life-threatening illness at 19 months old, and a consistent lack of support and emotional abuse from my Dad. There were good times, and Mum did her best to make it a happy family and shield us from the worst of what was happening. We were always fed, clothed and loved, however short of money she was. She made a lot of our clothes, and the rest, like our toys, were almost always second hand, but that didn’t matter. I was a teenager before I realised that toys usually came in packaging!
She was constantly trying to improve things for her and her family. She went to night school classes for dressmaking and cake decorating, and probably other subjects too that I’ve forgotten. She took on additional work cleaning and ran her own catering business for a number of years in various forms. Then she ran the kitchens at several different schools including Blyth, Langold and the Elizabethan High School, which is where she retired from. She also won School Cook of the Year. Later, she became a reliable dog, cat and house sitter.
Even though she was always working hard, she had time for us, and the thing I missed most when I left home was the chat about our day over a cup of tea and the biscuit tin when we came home from school. I still do miss that, along with the fact that she was always interested in what I was up to – she wanted to share in my work trips, days out and holidays, along with anything I’d bought, especially if it was a bargain! She often said she had the best of both worlds with me and Francis – she had grandkids to enjoy from him, and with me she could enjoy hearing about all the things we were up to with our hobbies and the concerts and places we went to. She always took an interest in what we ate too, especially when we were abroad, so our holiday photos included lots of pictures of meals!
Mum was married to my Dad for 43 years before she left him, doing a “moonlight flit” as she proudly called it, even though it was on a Saturday morning. I know she’d wanted to do this many times over the years, even when we were kids, but it was usually a lack of money that prevented her. It was entirely her decision but one we fully supported. I was so proud of her for her bravery in taking that terrifying step. It proved to be one of the best things she’d ever do.
She truly blossomed after that and had just over 8 years of doing exactly as she pleased and living her life to the full on her very limited budget. I only wish it could have been longer. She got to see more of her friends, go to concerts, the theatre and cinema, watch what she wanted on TV, pursue her art even more fervently, go on holidays, and to finally go abroad on a plane.
Though she’d had a flight in a glider before that and had been to Italy by train with me back in 1998, despite Dad’s disapproval and best efforts to prevent her, she loved now being able to fly to Spain for a holiday with her best friend Kathryn.
It wasn’t until Mum broke her leg, nearly 20 years ago, that she discovered her talent for art. Frustrated at having to sit still after being such an active person, she went to an art class with a friend at Sutton Village Hall. She never looked back. She tried all sorts of media and would have a go at any style. She loved it and the new people and friends it brought into her life, and she was always eager to try and sell people her work – well, it meant she could buy more art materials! She was rightly proud to have held exhibitions of her own work, as well as having paintings in exhibitions with others, and she did stints as Chair of both Sutton Art Group and Worksop Society of Artists.
At the West Retford Hotel after this – to which you are all invited – there will be an opportunity to see some of Mum’s work and take home one or more of her pictures as a memento if you wish. There’s no obligation to pay for them (ignore any prices left on them!) but if you wish to make a donation to the Hospice for any, that would be much appreciated, thank you.
Earlier this year, during one of her many short stays with us in our support bubble during the COVID restrictions, Mum mentioned that her favourite car ever was an AC Cobra, and that she’d always wanted to drive or ride in one. Cue a birthday present idea! So David arranged for her to have a ride as a passenger (they don’t have automatic gear boxes unfortunately) in an AC Cobra at Blyton racetrack, which was booked for 8th August. This was to be a surprise, so all she knew was to save the date for a birthday treat. The week before, it had to be postponed as the car needed some work doing, so it was rearranged for 23rd October. We made up a gift card explaining what her present was to be, but on her birthday Mum took herself to A&E as she was in so much pain. That was the beginning of her hospital visits and her steady decline. She loved the present and was so excited, telling everyone about it, even when nursing staff were warning us she probably wouldn’t be well enough to do it (if she was even still with us) by then. On 20th September they’d told us she’d probably have 2/3 weeks to live. It wasn’t until 7 weeks later that she passed away.
Although she was very poorly, and her Dr had advised she wasn’t medically fit enough for it the day before, she insisted she was still going to do the ride all the way up to and on the day itself. We had a few challenges to overcome, but David and I and her sister Pauline took her to Blyton rather warily. The staff there were fantastic and made it so easy for us. They had to lift her in and out of the car, but the grin on her face made it worth all the worry and effort. Rory, the driver, who she took a shine to, asked how fast he should go, and Mum stated “Fast!”. Apparently, she was asking him to go faster all the way around! Everyone she saw afterwards who visited or cared for her was shown the photos and told all about it. I’m so glad we were able to do that for her.
I couldn’t talk about my Mum without mentioning “Maggie-isms”. Mum’s ability to get her “mords wuddled” was legendary. She put up with our good-humoured teasing and seemed to share our amusement. No matter how hard I’d try not to react to something she’d muddled up, she’d notice and say, “What have I said now?”
There are too many to cover here, but I have to mention some of the classics.
- At her 50th birthday party, she announced to a crowded room that “drinking wine is very therapubic”.
- She told her dear friend Vanessa that she’d bought a new microwave and that it was a “jacuzzi” (rather than a Zanussi).
- I had a long confusing conversation with her where she was trying to tell me that she couldn’t remember where it was, but she wasn’t going to a particular Butlins this year because it was too far and would take more than a day to drive there. When she eventually told me it was “Buenos Aires”, I seriously got the giggles. She’d meant Bognor Regis!
- Her shopping lists continued the theme – over the years, we’ve been asked to get, among other things – “radishes of bacon”, “soluble razors” and “Born evil chocolate”
- And more recently, I visited her in Doncaster Royal Infirmary and she told me she’d signed a consent form for her autopsy. “You’re not dead yet, Mum!” I laughed. “What do I mean, then?” “Biopsy?” “Oh, yes, that’s it!” she laughed.
The excuse she’d give was that she’d given me all her brains. For that, I am eternally grateful, along with all the other qualities I saw in her that I hope I have inherited to greater or lesser extents.
As with all life’s challenges, I’ve learnt some important lessons from Mum’s last few weeks. If you have a health niggle – get it checked out. Bother the doctors – that’s what they’re there for. As we all know, the sooner things like cancer are discovered, the better chance there is of recovery. And the real importance of living every moment, taking every opportunity, and finding joy in the little things. Do things now, don’t save it for later. Spend your money on trips and experiences – making memories.
Mum was always about finding the positives, keeping a brave face, and being practical – finding solutions. She kept telling me not to cry ‘til she’d gone, and towards the end she told me she didn’t want me to cry buckets. I’ve let her down on that one, unfortunately, but I’ll keep trying to make her proud in every other way.
Loved so much by so many, Mum – Maggie, you will be missed by us all. We will cherish in our hearts and minds forever the countless, wonderful, happy memories you have left us with.
Thanks Mum.
Emma
