Today is the 1st anniversary of my dear mum’s death. To say it has been a difficult year would be a gross understatement. I have missed her every minute of every single day, and no, the missing doesn’t get any easier.
What I have realised is that most people who came to know mum over the last years of her life simply think of her as ‘Betty with Alzheimer’s’, this wasn’t my mum at all, those years were just a heart breaking time that little by little took my mum away from me. I feel the 1st anniversary of her death a fitting time to pay tribute to my lovely mum and to tell a little of her story, of the woman my mum really was.
Mum was born in Trehafod South Wales on the 25 May 1918. The middle daughter of three to Annie, whose family originated from Ireland, and Thomas whose family originated from Brecon. The family moved from Trehafod when mum was a toddler to Cardiff. She was brought up in a Catholic household, and never missed Church on Sunday, and was a member of the Legion of Mary, and she constantly did voluntary work through the church.
On leaving school mum trained as tailor in Cardiff, she became an accomplished seamstress. A work colleague introduced her to my father.
Mum and dad married on the 15 May 1936 when mum was 18 years old. Dad was a Warrant Officer Navigator in the Royal Air force. Following their marriage they moved to Bicester where dad was stationed.
In June 1939 their first child was born, a son. Following the outbreak of WW11 mum and my brother, then just a small baby, returned to Cardiff on the advice of the RAF to live with my grandparents, as did mum’s sister, who had married a sailor in the Royal Navy, they had a daughter, who my brother was brought up with over the next 4 years. They were all very close as a family, trying to make the best of the most dreadful times, the sisters took it in turns to queue for ‘anything that was going’ during rationing. I remember my mum telling me, ‘if you saw a queue you joined it and found out what was going later’.
During an air raid over Germany dad’s plane was shot down, he was missing presumed killed and mum was in receipt of a War Widows Pension for about a year, mum told me she never believed that dad had been killed, she knew he was alive somewhere, eventually the Red Cross traced my dad, he was a PoW for 4 years.
In July 1940 mum’s youngest sister died of renal failure, my grandmother never really recovered from this. My grandmother to quote mum just about functioned on a daily basis, mum took over the running of the home, and basically kept the family together.
2 January 1941 during the bombings on Cardiff mum’s family home in Cardiff was bombed, although the house was totally destroyed, the family were unhurt. They all went to live with a cousin on a remote farm. Mum and her sister then worked at an armaments factory, this was something she kept from my father in her letters to him, she didn’t want him to worry about her. Along with her sister they had to walk 4 miles over fields to get to the road to catch the bus to the factory, if it was raining, they hid their wellies in a hedge ready for the walk home.
When dad was repatriated they once again returned to Cardiff, however due to dad’s poor health following his treatment in the PoW camps he had to retire from the RAF. He retrained as a commercial refrigeration engineer.
In August 1953 I was born. Mum an accomplished seamstress, and she also enjoyed knitting, made most of my clothes, and all the soft furnishings for the home, she was a really ‘fussy’ housewife, and everything was kept immaculate. She had her ‘work’ clothes, and her ‘going out’ clothes. Everything had to washed and ironed ‘just so’. Her favourite pastime was moving around the furniture, and shortening the legs on all the furniture in the house. My dad maintained good humouredly low furniture made my 4.8” mum feel taller!
Mum returned to work in approx. 1967, this was a clerical job, which was a tremendous credit to her as she had not worked since marrying dad in 1938. Mum continued to work full time until the age of 63.
Dad died very suddenly of a heart attack in 1982. My mum’s world fell apart. After dad’s death, mum visited me every single day, we were best friends, we did everything together. She went with us on holiday to America, Spain and Cyprus, holidays she loved every second of. She was such an important part of everyday family life. Mum also visited my brother when he lived in Indonesia and Nigeria for months at a time, when she went away I was lost without her.
My only child was born in December 1983; mum always said ‘God had sent him to ease the sadness of losing my soul mate’. My son became the centre of her world; they had an amazingly close relationship. She loved nothing more than to walk to the village hall to collect him from nursery, they played a game, he would hide under the table, and she would pretend she didn’t know where he was, until the little giggles came from under the table. She treasured all the little paintings he had done for her; these always took pride of place on a wall in her home.
When he went to school, his Nan would stand in the porch looking out for the school bus, but as he got older, this became a bit of an embarrassment to the young adolescent, he would say ‘aw Nan do you have to wait in the porch, my friends can see you from the bus’!!! Nan would give a little laugh, and be in the porch just the same the following day!
Mum’s life totally revolved around her husband, children and grandchildren. She never looked to the wider world for companionship, always content to be with just her family. She was always proud of her family, for instance, when her granddaughter, my brother’s daughter qualified as a Nurse, and when Grandson became a Police Officer, she used to say, “I am so proud, I could stop strangers in the street to tell them how well they have done”.
Mum then became ill with Alzheimer’s. Before this disease took over, she was a quiet, softly spoken lady, to who good manners was everything. She was positively fastidious about her appearance and her home, My brother and me know all too well that she did the laundry every single day, we were divested of our school uniforms as soon as we came home from school so she could ‘get the washing on’. This was who mum really was. It was heartbreaking to see such a radical change in mum because of Alzheimer’s. Words will never describe how devastating these years were.
My mum was a ‘lady’ in the true sense of the word, who was a homemaker, the centre of her family, and who loved all of her family greatly. This was who my mum really was, and not ‘Betty with Alzheimer’s’.
Good night, God bless mum, always in my thoughts, forever in my heart.
What I have realised is that most people who came to know mum over the last years of her life simply think of her as ‘Betty with Alzheimer’s’, this wasn’t my mum at all, those years were just a heart breaking time that little by little took my mum away from me. I feel the 1st anniversary of her death a fitting time to pay tribute to my lovely mum and to tell a little of her story, of the woman my mum really was.
Mum was born in Trehafod South Wales on the 25 May 1918. The middle daughter of three to Annie, whose family originated from Ireland, and Thomas whose family originated from Brecon. The family moved from Trehafod when mum was a toddler to Cardiff. She was brought up in a Catholic household, and never missed Church on Sunday, and was a member of the Legion of Mary, and she constantly did voluntary work through the church.
On leaving school mum trained as tailor in Cardiff, she became an accomplished seamstress. A work colleague introduced her to my father.
Mum and dad married on the 15 May 1936 when mum was 18 years old. Dad was a Warrant Officer Navigator in the Royal Air force. Following their marriage they moved to Bicester where dad was stationed.
In June 1939 their first child was born, a son. Following the outbreak of WW11 mum and my brother, then just a small baby, returned to Cardiff on the advice of the RAF to live with my grandparents, as did mum’s sister, who had married a sailor in the Royal Navy, they had a daughter, who my brother was brought up with over the next 4 years. They were all very close as a family, trying to make the best of the most dreadful times, the sisters took it in turns to queue for ‘anything that was going’ during rationing. I remember my mum telling me, ‘if you saw a queue you joined it and found out what was going later’.
During an air raid over Germany dad’s plane was shot down, he was missing presumed killed and mum was in receipt of a War Widows Pension for about a year, mum told me she never believed that dad had been killed, she knew he was alive somewhere, eventually the Red Cross traced my dad, he was a PoW for 4 years.
In July 1940 mum’s youngest sister died of renal failure, my grandmother never really recovered from this. My grandmother to quote mum just about functioned on a daily basis, mum took over the running of the home, and basically kept the family together.
2 January 1941 during the bombings on Cardiff mum’s family home in Cardiff was bombed, although the house was totally destroyed, the family were unhurt. They all went to live with a cousin on a remote farm. Mum and her sister then worked at an armaments factory, this was something she kept from my father in her letters to him, she didn’t want him to worry about her. Along with her sister they had to walk 4 miles over fields to get to the road to catch the bus to the factory, if it was raining, they hid their wellies in a hedge ready for the walk home.
When dad was repatriated they once again returned to Cardiff, however due to dad’s poor health following his treatment in the PoW camps he had to retire from the RAF. He retrained as a commercial refrigeration engineer.
In August 1953 I was born. Mum an accomplished seamstress, and she also enjoyed knitting, made most of my clothes, and all the soft furnishings for the home, she was a really ‘fussy’ housewife, and everything was kept immaculate. She had her ‘work’ clothes, and her ‘going out’ clothes. Everything had to washed and ironed ‘just so’. Her favourite pastime was moving around the furniture, and shortening the legs on all the furniture in the house. My dad maintained good humouredly low furniture made my 4.8” mum feel taller!
Mum returned to work in approx. 1967, this was a clerical job, which was a tremendous credit to her as she had not worked since marrying dad in 1938. Mum continued to work full time until the age of 63.
Dad died very suddenly of a heart attack in 1982. My mum’s world fell apart. After dad’s death, mum visited me every single day, we were best friends, we did everything together. She went with us on holiday to America, Spain and Cyprus, holidays she loved every second of. She was such an important part of everyday family life. Mum also visited my brother when he lived in Indonesia and Nigeria for months at a time, when she went away I was lost without her.
My only child was born in December 1983; mum always said ‘God had sent him to ease the sadness of losing my soul mate’. My son became the centre of her world; they had an amazingly close relationship. She loved nothing more than to walk to the village hall to collect him from nursery, they played a game, he would hide under the table, and she would pretend she didn’t know where he was, until the little giggles came from under the table. She treasured all the little paintings he had done for her; these always took pride of place on a wall in her home.
When he went to school, his Nan would stand in the porch looking out for the school bus, but as he got older, this became a bit of an embarrassment to the young adolescent, he would say ‘aw Nan do you have to wait in the porch, my friends can see you from the bus’!!! Nan would give a little laugh, and be in the porch just the same the following day!
Mum’s life totally revolved around her husband, children and grandchildren. She never looked to the wider world for companionship, always content to be with just her family. She was always proud of her family, for instance, when her granddaughter, my brother’s daughter qualified as a Nurse, and when Grandson became a Police Officer, she used to say, “I am so proud, I could stop strangers in the street to tell them how well they have done”.
Mum then became ill with Alzheimer’s. Before this disease took over, she was a quiet, softly spoken lady, to who good manners was everything. She was positively fastidious about her appearance and her home, My brother and me know all too well that she did the laundry every single day, we were divested of our school uniforms as soon as we came home from school so she could ‘get the washing on’. This was who mum really was. It was heartbreaking to see such a radical change in mum because of Alzheimer’s. Words will never describe how devastating these years were.
My mum was a ‘lady’ in the true sense of the word, who was a homemaker, the centre of her family, and who loved all of her family greatly. This was who my mum really was, and not ‘Betty with Alzheimer’s’.
Good night, God bless mum, always in my thoughts, forever in my heart.
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