When you’re waiting for the time to pass.
When you’re waiting for that time
When the time comes to say our goodbye.
Each hour, each minute lasts a life time.
A lifetime to look back on
To laugh and to cry, with family and friends.
A life of love and happiness
A life of work and play
And most of all, memories and stories.
The time will come all too soon.
When songs are sung and poems read.
Prays are recited, and eyes wiped.
And finally the curtains close
We must say goodbye
One last time.
How do you measure grief?
You can’t measure it through time.
You often still feel the pain for many years.
You can’t measure it through distance.
As every step you walk in grief
feels like a mile of sadness.
Grief is never bright and shiny.
It makes everything dull and flat.
Grief makes you feel unfulfilled and useless.
Can grief be measured by Love?
The more you love,
and are loved – the more you feel grief!
And where once there was a lightness in your heart
the weight of a heart filled with grief is always heavy.
You cannot shy away from grief-
for you will never feel love.
And to never feel love will leave you empty.
You can learn to manage grief,
but the empty feeling will stay –
Until you love again.
I married relatively young. I was 22 when I married. I was 27 when I divorced.
I had known my husband since I was 19, and during those 8 years of marriage I had settles into a life of friendship and solidarity with those around me. They were mostly his friends. I made my own circle of friends with those I worked with. But we tended to socialised with his friends and their wives.
We went to weddings, saw babies arrive and shared their lives of both joy and sadness.
Then just like that it all disappeared. On 16th October 1987 our marriage was dissolved – as the official paper work says – and on 10th December 1987 that was it. Final. The final piece of paper was issued, and my marriage, and my life as I knew it was ended.
My girl friends who were married to my then ex-husband’s friends all disappeared as if I had never been part of their lives. It was before the days of technology, if you wanted to meet with someone you rang them from your home phone. When they were home from work. There were no mobiles, no social media. No easy way of contacting someone. So when I left my relationship – I left the old way of life behind.
Of course you have the wedding photos and holiday snaps in an album to look at. And that was the difficult part, as it was painful reminder of how full my life has been before my divorce. Those women had stood by me through the joys of wedded life and the pain and sorrow of infertility. Then after the separation – the breaking of ties with my past life.
How could I ask my female friends to stand by me, while their husbands stood by my ex. It was an impossible ask, and so they fell away like autumn leaves from a tree. I would not ask for divided loyalties. And they would not have to know the horrors of my final months and the sadness I had to endure.
Then 20 years later, when lives were very different and I had certainly moved on, a face from the past appeared. One of those lovely old friends of time from long ago, someone who had helped me to learn to drive, who sat with me while I drove us around for practice. She was a friend of my new neighbour, what was the chance of that? As the time has gone on, we have met as a group, and I often talk of my ‘old life’. There is no animosity, only sorrow that things turned out the way they did. And shock that I had gone through my last year as a married woman to her friend in such harrowing circumstances.
And luckily she is still friends with another old friend from the group. And by the help of social media I am in contact with this very dear friend. We attended each other’s wedding all those years ago as young women and helped one another through the tougher times. And the first thing she said to me was ‘I have never forgotten you’. It brought me to tears, for all those lost years and lost laughs and memories.
I won’t lose these friends again. We can’t catch up on my lost years of friendships – but going forward that friendship has a different feeling.
Tomorrow we say goodbye to my mother-in-law Maureen. She has been with me through the fun times, through silly times, the sad times of loss and the happy times of marriage and children.
I knew her longer than I knew my own mother. My father in law graciously gave me away at our wedding as I had already lost my dad and my lovely mum. We are a family unit and always will be. I wanted to write something for her funeral to be read out, but didn’t have the courage to do something, so I wrote something for my hubby – her adorable son – to write on the card for her flowers from us.
You will always be my mother and I’ll miss you every day. I’ll miss your disposition and the thoughtful things you say. Your gentle touch and shining eyes will just be a glimpse away. I won’t ever forget you mum - here in my heart each day.
And of course I write this for my mother – who I miss every day.
<a href="http://<span>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@franho?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Francesca Ho</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/s/photos/yellow-flower?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Unsplash</a>http://<span>Photo by <a href=”https://unsplash.com/@franho?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText”>Francesca Ho</a> on <a href=”https://unsplash.com/s/photos/yellow-flower?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText”>Unsplash</a></span>
I’d heard about Doreen long before I’d met her. And I think the Angels of fate allowed this to happen. Let me tell you why I think they were involved.
I’d been going to a relatively local Hair Salon for a number of years, and I felt really comfortable with the hairdresser who cut my hair. Then they closed the salon, and she moved to a different branch, so I moved with her. You don’t give up a hairdresser do you who makes you feel confident? The other branch was based in a sports complex, and was full of young vibrant students who washed hair, and changed the towels, brought the tea and coffee and swept the floor. A busy place.
Then suddenly it started to get quieter, there were less clients there, the Saturday staff became less and less, and the hairdressers were leaving. I was told that salon too would be closing. The next time would be my last time.
I went there with a heavy heart, knowing I’d have to look for somewhere else.
The last time I went there, I think I was the only one there. The young girl who was given the task of washing my hair, I struck up a conversation with her. She said that she did this job as a Saturday girl, but really she wanted to become a photographer like her granny, who had worked for a newspaper, and took photographs of famous people. She was pretty, young and bubby and enthusiastic about what direction she hoped her career would go in. What a pleasure to talk to someone who was so proud of her family that she wanted to follow in their footsteps. I remember saying she should follow her dream – It’s how I think anyone of us should progress in life- if we can. We only have one chance. And I wished her luck.
Soon after this the salon closed, and I found somewhere else. But I always remembered this young girl who was so enthusiastic and vibrant.
A few years later our paths crossed again, but I wasn’t to know it. We were at a New Year’s Eve party at a local club with my two teenage sons. She was there with her friends.
Then one day my eldest son brought home his new girlfriend, Millie. And as the months went on, we found out a little more about her. And lo and behold- it turned out that she was in fact this young saturday girl in the hairdressers, whose enthusiasm had shone through when talking about her granny the famous photographer.
As Millie firmly embedded herself in our family, and our son became a big part of hers, we met Doreen on lots of occasions. I could see why Millie wanted to follow in her footsteps, she had a love of her family and photography.
Oh yes, that New Year’s Eve party! Some photographs surfaced of our sons and their friends, and who was in the background? Millie as if she was always meant to be there!
We have recently said goodbye to Doreen this lovely lady of 92. To most people she looked very ordinary, well dressed, white hair, standing proud and chatty to those who want to stop and talk. But to others she holds a special place in their hearts. During the times of great change in the world, she took on the men in a business that was primarily for men, and put a different slant on it.
She will be missed, but her legacy lives on. Not just in history, but more importantly in her family.
Looking back on the story of my life, I see a time punctuated with love and laughter, with sadness and joy.
From the poor childhood filled with green and grey memories, the grass and the slate, the rain and the rain!
A life filled with loneliness and rituals.
Sickness and long corridors. Crying and sadness.
Lifelong friendships made on bus journeys, new experiences, and places.
Others lifestyles, and others laughter.
Finding love and loosing love, finding it again – only for it to drift away as young lust does.
A change of life, a change of culture, change of pace and language.
A change of love, a father figure who was anything but an ideal role model,
and thankfully never a father.
Memories left behind, together with the bruises and what little hope there was of happiness.
Anger and rage, rules and rebukes.
A knight in shining armour, a prince who had shared my memories before.
He who gave me back my hope and love, unconditional and everlasting love!
And in return I gave bricks and mortar and sunny times.
A time of sadness, a time of loss again and again.
The ones who loved me in a sea of others, stolen away without saying goodbye.
Without being able to share my hopes and telling that better life story I’d planned with my prince.
Stolen love and kisses at 1am gave milky smiles, not once but twice.
Tiny hands clutching at hair and sleepy eyes, and the smell only new born have.
Blue and blue double trouble!
Lasting memories of A&E and adventurous toddlers.
Nuts and bolts, falling off logs and stitches, diving for alligators, snails, M&M’s and runny noses.
Each word conjuring up a memory of boys and daily life in the household! Words when said, run like a film clip in my mind of those events.
Chaos and bike chains, swimming lesson, dirty football boots.
Discovering difficulties and challenges, jam and pizza.
Mundane and regular.
Summer holidays with kites, camping and caravans.
Rain and sun cream all rolled into one. Lasting friendships made – for 10 days.
Dancing and slush puppies.
Family holidays under the dome, ducks and deer, silently watching the apples and the bread through the glass of a cosy warm chalet.
A time of horror.
Of long train and bus journeys, of sadness and pain.
Innocence gone in the blink of an eye. Scars carried like armour, making him strong, but still so very innocent.
Driving and cars. One, two, eight or is it nine?
Young love, innocent and gentle. Shared beliefs and dreams.
Counting the years, counting the homes and now counting the babies.
A time of joy. Of long train and car journeys, of happiness and new experiences.
Hard work, and new technology.
Missing the long and lean boy sleeping on the sofa, mixing with the rich and elite, a new life experiences, built on hard work.
And now in the autumn of my life, I look back on this colourful patchwork of events. Some with sadness, most with joy.
Each nugget of memory lodged in my heart to bring out in conversation with family and friends.
Not too dissimilar from other’s lives, but my memories never the less.
Each day, each year, each smile, each tear punctuating hours and years.
It’s not over yet, more memories to have I plan and hope.
More holidays, more sun, less of something.
Lets see!
Those around me are drowning in sorrow at the minute. It’s such a very sad time.
And it has made me remember my mam, and how very much I loved her, and still do. And every day I miss her so very much.
I’m listening to stories of long drawn out illnesses, and brave battles fought again and again. And long lives lived and memories made with young families. And with the greatest of sadness, a life not much older than mine being snatched away, while those around are helpless, and wordless – but not without a river of tears.
I had no time really to say good bye, just good night. The next morning she had gone, before I had time to tell her our plans of grandchildren and weddings. I know she didn’t want to go, it wasn’t how she planned it, I’m sure of that. Her favourite shopping was for hats. But life is both blessed and cruel. On one hand a fine engagement ring, on the other funeral plans. I’d just come back from Paris, where my kind loving boy had given me his undying love and knelt under the tower to ask me to be with him till death do us part.
I’d found one love and lost another – in the blink of an eye.
That’s why we need to say ‘I love you’ every day, with genuine feeling in our eyes. We need to build memories, not hide secrets. And treasure the family we have, for as long as we have them.
Each year on your birthday
We will send purple balloons skyward
Filled with love and loss.
The breath of loved ones
Floating to meet those perfect hands
And everlasting youth.
You will be forever in our hearts
And your name will be on our lips
And in our minds and dreams.
Skye Lilly darling baby.
Our holiday this year has been arranged around two old postcards that were written by my grandmother Elizabeth Williams in 1954 to my mother. She was born in 1887, in a small village in the middle of Carmarthen called Trefeurig. It was a rural area, not many houses, lots of miners lived and worked in the area. Her father Richard Williams who was born in 1860 was one of those miners, he died at a relatively young age of 30 in 1890. At the time her mother had a young baby of 9 months (called Richard), two young sons of 4years old (Luther) and a 2 year old (Thomas) and her daughter Elizabeth – my grandmother.
Richard’s parents were Thomas and Margaret Williams. Thomas was born in about 1813. He married Margaret Williams, who was about 3 years younger than he was, and in total had 5 children. 4 sons, and 1 daughter. This is where our history becomes very confusing. The children were called Elizabeth (19), John (16) Thomas (8) Methusalem (8) and finally Richard the youngest at 1 year old – my great grandfather- Elizabeth’s father. Names were handed down in families hence the same names appearing in two generations of family.
Generally around that time children came along on a very regular basis due to the lack of birth control, normally one a year. So it is probably likely there were some still births in this and many other families, who have not be registered on the census records of 1861 that these details have come from.
The post cards I have kept for many years were written to my mum and dad in 1954. They are of two places that my grandmother had visited on her trip to west wales. It doesn’t say where she was staying, but as this place is so very near to the place her family originated from, it was highly likely that she was staying with some family.
She tells her daughter and her son-in law (my mam and dad) about the places she has visited.
‘having a lovely time out each afternoon, pity dad bach isn’t with me. I have all the places on a paper. went to Aberystwyth yesterday 10in the morning. Called at ^^^^^^ bungalow 9 of them there, very nice. a scorching afternoon after the rain, and returned Newquay we intend going to Tenby tomorrow. St Dogmails is a lovely place you get town and country here. Sat will soon be here now hope you are both feeling good.Let us know what time to expect you home on sat. hope you have good digs I will not write again now. Kindest regards from Elfyn and Mena. fondest love mam xx and in the margin .our church marked with a spot (dogmael) ‘
I have had these postcards in my possession since my grandmother died in 1978 when she was about 92. I’ve never taken that much notice of what they were, they were just two sepia postcards, that she had written. 4 years ago I started researching my family tree, and they became a big part of the jigsaw. She said that she was with Elfyn (her son) and his wife Mena. I had found that they lived near to his place. And in fact Elfyn had died the year I was born in 1960, in this area. On the card she makes reference to dad bach, her husband, or in those days the husband was known as dad. He had died just before this card was written.
So why am I telling you all this? Well – we decided that our holiday would be a great opportunity to visit this village where the post cards were from. We researched a local hotel, booked the break, and this story is built around the postcards.
The Cliff Hotel overlooks Poppit Sands in Cardigan. The Teify Estuary leads out to the Irish sea, Poppit Sands is on one side, and the Cliff Hotel is on the other side There is a coast guard station there, a café that does the most amazing Bara Bryth. a selection of Holiday homes, and a YHA (Youth Hostel Association) place to stay. We drove round the estuary, and parked the car in the little car park. We had a coffee in the café, and then walked onto the beach. The wide expanse of golden sand, peppered with little flecks of black and tiny pebbles and discarded cockle shells. Although it was a damp day, it certainly didn’t deter the dog walkers, dogs don’t mind the rain or the wet as they jumped in and out of the waves.
My heart soared, as I thought that this was a beach that my grandmother (or nain as she was known to her grand children) had walked on. Of course I’d been to many places with her as I grew up with her and she lived with us until she passed away when I was 18. I could imagine her with her son, and daughter in law travelling around in a little car, looking at the same view I was looking at. Maybe sitting in the same sea side café, and if I know my nain, eating the same cake I was eating, she had a sweet tooth! Probably where I get it from. Of course I’d been to many places with her, she had lived with our family from when I was 8 so I grew up with her until she passed away when I was 18.
I’d like to think that she went there to gain some comfort from family, having recently been widowed. And although back in the mining communities of the early part of the last century, you appreciate that death was a part of their lives – mining accidents, and child mortality being a more regular occurrence than today – I don’t think they were so hardened to it that they were void of sadness and distress.
We then went to St Dogmaels. A quaint village perched on the mountain side. Winding streets with little houses brightly coloured cling to the mountain, and tumbled down the hill. The 60 year old picture on the post card looked nothing like the village of today, and it was difficult to find out anything that appeared on the card, so we went to the ruins of the Abbey with a little heritage centre that has a lovely café inside.
I kept this post card in my hand trying to find any reference to anything we had seen. Then when I looked for the umpteenth time, it was like a light bulb moment. There on the post card in the middle were the ruins. I had never seen them like this before – I thought they were houses. It all fell into place, and although the village on the card didn’t look like the village in 2016, the trees were more overgrown, and there of course were newer properties in the sight line I could see the village of 1955.
What an amazing day, I look some pictures of the houses in the village, as a reminder of our trip. We walked through the car park to the banks of the estuary, we saw a heron trying to catch some lunch for himself, a young man getting ready for the St Dogmaels market which is held on a Tuesday, where sellers and buyers travel from near and far.
I will go back, and visit this magical and historical place again.
Each year, round about September, a group of smartly dressed women meet in a restaurant. They are all the right side of 55 (that’s what they say!) And have know one another for a whole life time.
They share lots of life experiences. They met in college, and through the years have shared lots of good times and bad. Marriage, children, illness and loss.
And now they are looking to celebrating their 40 year frienship in the near future. As time has moved on, and new technology allows them to enjoy their relationships in inivitive ways, they are looking forward to their futures together.
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