Gone but never forgotten

Discussion group for bereaved people.This forum offers support, understanding, compassion and hope to bereaved people, struggling to rebuild their lives after the death of their loved ones.
koan
Posts: 16817
Joined: Sun Oct 31, 2004 1:00 pm

Gone but never forgotten

Post by koan »

Please use this thread to memorialize the people in your life who you've lost, need to grieve and want the world to know about.

I hope those who post here shed many tears as they write. That's all we have to give to them anymore but each tear is precious and needs to fall.

To all who have lost someone special, know you are not alone in your grief. If you feel lost in grief, know that someone else in the world loves you just as much. We're all in this together and the more pain you feel, the more you learn to appreciate happiness... and happiness will return, even if it seems impossible right now.

We want to hear their stories.



(if you've written a memorial elsewhere in the forum feel free to copy/paste it here)
koan
Posts: 16817
Joined: Sun Oct 31, 2004 1:00 pm

Gone but never forgotten

Post by koan »

My sweet baby Noah's heart stopped beating on Wednesday and he was born into the world at 1:45am Thursday, January 14, 2010.

Though I'll never have the chance to hear him laugh, dry his tears or watch him grow into a man, he will always be a part of me. Innocent, beautiful Noah I love you.

*from theia's thread:

I discovered, when I lost Noah, that I had a phobia of funerals. I remember my Aunt's funeral when I was only about 9 and I wasn't old enough to really feel the loss intensely but, being extremely sensitive to other people's emotions, I was hit like a brick wall by the anguish and sadness of everyone else. It felt like a black hole that I was trying not to get sucked into. Traumatizing. As a result, I distanced myself from emotions to some degree. By the time I was 20 I pretty much refused to cry in front of anyone. If there was something that upset me I'd wait until I was alone before I'd accept the feelings. My favourite trick when things got bottled up was to go in the shower, think of anything that could get me crying then let everything out all at once, without caring exactly which part of it all was from what occassion. It seemed symbolically good to just offer all the pain up to the universe, let it out and watch it go down the drain, away from me.

I still think that works well.

Losing Noah was different. I couldn't hide it. The nurses at the hospital were worried that I didn't have anyone with me and that I wasn't a wreck but were relieved that I had moments when I started crying. I was apologetic to start with, thinking it was such a burden to dissolve in front of someone and put them in an uncomfortable situation. Of course the nurses aren't strangers to women losing their babies so they kept telling me it was okay to fall apart. Good thing, because no matter how hard I tried I couldn't stop falling into the black hole. I learned to cry in front of people, which to me is quite astounding. I also found that crying felt good. I used to hate it. When it felt good I started to be okay with just suddenly bursting into tears.

My next problem was feeling okay if I laughed. Then it was feeling guilty for having a day where I didn't feel sad. I started thinking I was okay again after about a month but when I went out with some friends I was kinda wild and half crazed and realized one serious hangover later that I was still not back to normal. I think I've been putting pressure on myself to get over it as if I owe it to society. I've noticed that if I watch something really funny on tv I end up in hysterical laughter where I can't tell if I'm laughing or crying anymore.

I don't know if I'd have prefered not falling apart. I think for all the times I just sat in the dark crying I shaved a few years off crying at stupid commercials.

I only went to the grief counselor twice and she told me that she thought I was fine. It felt like passing a test. Mainly, they're looking for signs of dangerous depression (suicidal) dangerous anger (homicidal) or breaks from reality. Other than that, it's really nice to have someone to talk to who understands grief and can tell you you're normal/healthy. Pretty much anything you feel, whether it's ground shaking sadness or an odd distancing from people, is normal. How you respond to it is main question. If you're feeling like you have stuff bottled up inside you then you should look into ways to release it. If you feel clear and focused then assure yourself that you're fine and don't worry.

Emotions find their own way and time to come out, you might find that you have actually been letting the grief out but in small ways over a longer time and you just never noticed. You could probably find out if you have bottled it up by creating a safe place and surrounding yourself with things that remind you of your mother and see what happens... or finding someone you feel safe with and telling them all about her, who she was and what she meant to you or things you wish you'd said and done before she died, if any. You're the only one who knows what "normal" feels like.

One thing that definitely helped was hearing other people talk about their grief so... that's my story.
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G#Gill
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Joined: Thu Apr 05, 2007 1:09 pm

Gone but never forgotten

Post by G#Gill »

My mum had a fall, as she was getting out of her car outside her hairdresser's. The sick thing about all this was that she wasn't supposed to be there on that day, her appointment was the next day!

The hairdressing people ran out, and a kind gentleman helped her into the passenger's seat and drove her carefully back to her house. When he had helped her inside, he phoned her doctor, waited till the doc arrived, then left with my mum's thanks. The doctor rang me and said she had called an ambulance, I insisted that mum be taken to a different hospital than the one they proposed to take her. They did as I asked.

I arrived at the hospital just after my mum. She was in an uncomfortable state, but kept saying there was no need for all this fuss. We had to wait 4 hours before she was seen by doctors in the A & E. She was x-rayed, they could find no breaks or cracks, and she was transferred to the City Hospital at Nottingham. More waiting, but eventually they found a bed for her. I had managed to get some sandwiches for us, having ascertained that there would be no operation.

She was made as comfortable as possible in the ward and I came home.

I visited her every day, at different times, and sometimes more than once. They made my mum walk to the toilet each time she needed to go, and she was in agony walking. The doctors said that she would be in pain, and that it was the best way to get the healing done. This went on for many days, and my mum was getting worse. In fact she was not eating her meals. I brought in some 'ready meals' and microwaved them for her, helped her eat them and she enjoyed them and ate them all up. Whenever I went to visit her, I discovered that she was not eating the food that was left for her. One time I arrived at lunch time. There was an over-the-bed wheeled table which was positioned at the bottom of the bed, and when needed it was pulled up to the patient in the bed so that she could reach what was on the table. In my mum's case it was her meal. My mum could not reach the table, and nobody came to move it for her, she told me that, as I moved the table so she could reach. She said that the orderly returned a little later to clear away the empty dishes, saw mum had not touched hers, so just removed it thinking that mum just didn't like the food of that day. Nothing had been reported to nurses apparently. I was horrified when I found out the truth of what had been happening, and had quite a serious talk with the senior nurse, stopping just short of very raised voices. By this time, my mum had become very weak and just didn't want much to eat any way. At this time, about 10 days into mum's hospital stay, it was decided that they would do a scan on her pelvis, because they were puzzled that mum wasn't making progress.

It was found that she had sustained a hairline fracture of the pelvis, and they had made her walk to the toilet for 4 or 5 days until she just didn't have energy to move out of bed. Nio wonder she was in agony! I was gobsmacked. It had taken them 10 bloody days to decide to do a scan!! So apart from systematically starving my mother, they failed in their patient care over the scan business. When I visited on the 11th day, I was told the scan results, and I was furious. I said that I have to get some nourishment inside my mother, had they got anything that would be easily digested. I was taken to the small side kitchen to that ward, where I had actually microwaved those meals for my mum. A large cupboard was opened and I could see shelves full of different flavoured dried food, both savoury and sweet. They were in boxes sufficient for one good helping for an invalid, full of good nourishment, necessary vitamins, minerals etc. I almost lost it, at that point - why had the nursing staff not offered this to my mother???? 'We hadn't realised there was a problem with her eating' FFS.

I mixed her some, myself, and though it was not actually the time for a meal, I spoon fed her. She ate about half of it and said it was very nice, and went down easily. I thought 'thank God!'. Now we can make some progress.

I told the nursing staff to feed her breakfast, lunch, tea and supper with this boxed food. Jesus, I wasn't a bloody nurse! I couldn't be there all the time!!

They were the bloody nurses! OK, they were under staffed, but that was no excuse to let my mum starve ! Patient care my arse! I specially made plans to catch the doctor on his rounds in the morning, and I had a heart to heart very politely with him. He seemed concerned that my mum had been so neglected, and said that it would not happen again. He did glower at the nursing sister when he said that.

Unfortunately, it was all too late. My mum contracted the dreaded MRSA, also pneumonia, and because of her dreadfully weakened state, there was no way she could fight it. Because she had MRSA she was moved to a single bed, side room, where they had lots of hand-washing facilities and they introduced hand-washing at each entrance to the ward - special self-drying fluid. Too late for my dear mum........................................

She died. She had all her children with her, and some of her grandchildren.

I wanted to expose the hospital for what I considered as inhuman negligence, but on enquiry through my solicitor, we would have lost quite a bit of money with legal representation - if we did win the case, the compensation would not have covered our costs. On the other hand we may not have won the case, because there was no real evidence of neglect, except what my mother had said, and possibly what the orderly may or may not have said, oh and the x-ray pics compared to the scan evidence. I went away and had a family discussion. Nobody really wanted to drag it out in what might be a sordid court case, it would just prolong the pain of loosing our mum. So we decided to not proceed.

But I know that my mum, being pretty healthy and fit before the fall, would not have died had she been given the proper care. That is all that was needed - to be nursed, by nurses. Not much to ask really. I believe that she could have still been alive today. This happened 8 years ago

I'm so sorry mum, that I let you down, that you died too soon, and you were so uncomfortable. I miss you so much.

Thank you for the opportunity to talk about this. It has helped a little to come to terms with my guilt that I feel that I should have done more, visited at least twice a day, supervised her meal times and insisted on having a scan after a couple of days. But you trust that these people know what they are doing, that they have been trained to the highest standards, that their first and foremost interest is for the patients that are in their care.
I'm a Saga-lout, growing old disgracefully
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theia
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Joined: Mon Jun 20, 2005 3:54 pm

Gone but never forgotten

Post by theia »

From the Grief thread

She was special to me, Koan; deep down I adored her and would ultimately have done anything for her.

But, she seemed to view both my father and me as the people who had prevented her from living the life she would have liked. So there was always someone else special in her life who would "compensate" for our failings. My dad was the same as me in that he would have done anything for her but we both would feel deeply resentful that this wasn't reciprocal and would feel jealous of the others. And this resentment and jealousy haunted both our lives and when either of us dared to express it, we were unstoppable and all hell let loose. So, yes, crikeymoses, there is guilt aplenty for me...maybe that's what I'm trying to avoid facing.

My mum spent her last two weeks on the ward where I work...I would have had it no other way because, although I couldn't do anything for her, I could be close at hand if she needed me. The staff were my work colleagues and friends and I knew she had the best of care, even down to the wonderful HCA who laid her out after death.

My mum...

as a young woman she was beautiful and looked just like Jackie Kennedy. She was a giggler and a "big kid" and would give most things a go Her wartime stories were both heartrending and hilarious. She was a Girl Guide, and then a Guider for most of her life. She co-ordinated the local Victim Support group when she retired from the Probation Service. She never did a day's housework in her life; she loved smoking big cigars. She never judged anyone by their race or beliefs or status; she could be critical but never for those reasons. She passed her driving test first time but never drove above second gear! She loved gardening but her gardens were so full of everything that no-one but her could appreciate their beauty! She completely ignored sell by dates and her food cupboards were full of the most horrendous "things" but she never got ill from it...

So, whether anyone reads this post or not, it has really helped me writing it I've gone through a range of emotions in the last hour, and what I'm left with is that I wouldn't have changed my mother for the world. She highlighted the issues that I need to look at and, in that way she was perfect. And I love her and miss her.

Thank you, Koan.



What a beautiful thread this is...for me, reading koan's and Gill's posts somehow makes me feel closer to them.

My mum once told me that she imagined souls to look like little squares of bright, fresh white cloth pegged to the washing line and blowing gently in the breeze.
Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answers...Rainer Maria Rilke
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Imladris
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Joined: Thu Sep 28, 2006 5:29 am

Gone but never forgotten

Post by Imladris »

We lost my Nan last year, she was 92. Christmas 2008 she was unable to come to us as she usually did as she was in a local nursing home for some respite care as she was 'off her legs' for a while. The care there was exceptional, we visited her Christmas morning but missed her and she missed spending the day with her family and especially the children.



She came home, was housebound mainly due to her stubbornness and refusal to use a walking frame outside! Bless her, she'd use it at home but considered her shopping trolley sufficient to support her outside, when it clearly wasn't.



She had carers calling three times a day to help her get dressed, get meals and change and wash for bed - she still did as much for herself as she could, that stubborn streak again.



Towards the end of May last year her morning carer couldn't get in so she called my Dad, he called me asking if my husband was busy and would he go check on her in case she'd passed away in her sleep. I thought my husband was busy so I said I'd go, against my Dad's wishes but I said I could cope if she had died - after all I'm married to a funeral director and worked in the business for years.



I was completely unprepared to find her still alive but wedged, unconscious between her bed and the wall. I called an ambulance, the paramedic thought she'd had a stroke. I got a right rollocking from my husband for going in alone - he wasn't busy, would have gone with me and was upset that I'd faced that alone.



Long story but it turned out that she'd had a massive heart attack and a significant stroke.



We spent the next two weeks watching her slowly die, she had no swallowing reflex, would have died on an operating table if they'd tried surgery on her heart and the conclusion was that due to her age the 'kindest' thing would be palliative care only. She kept her marbles right up to the end, in lucid moments, despite her speech being badly affected, she would remind my dad to pay bills and cancel the papers or ask for a cup of tea!



We lost her last June. She's still loved, still missed and I'm grateful for having such a wonderful, kind, generous and doting Nan. God bless Nan x x
Originally Posted by spot

She is one fit bitch innit, that Immy





Don't worry; it only seems kinky the first time
K.Snyder
Posts: 10253
Joined: Thu Mar 24, 2005 2:05 pm

Gone but never forgotten

Post by K.Snyder »

G#Gill;1300205 wrote: My mum had a fall, as she was getting out of her car outside her hairdresser's. The sick thing about all this was that she wasn't supposed to be there on that day, her appointment was the next day!

The hairdressing people ran out, and a kind gentleman helped her into the passenger's seat and drove her carefully back to her house. When he had helped her inside, he phoned her doctor, waited till the doc arrived, then left with my mum's thanks. The doctor rang me and said she had called an ambulance, I insisted that mum be taken to a different hospital than the one they proposed to take her. They did as I asked.

I arrived at the hospital just after my mum. She was in an uncomfortable state, but kept saying there was no need for all this fuss. We had to wait 4 hours before she was seen by doctors in the A & E. She was x-rayed, they could find no breaks or cracks, and she was transferred to the City Hospital at Nottingham. More waiting, but eventually they found a bed for her. I had managed to get some sandwiches for us, having ascertained that there would be no operation.

She was made as comfortable as possible in the ward and I came home.

I visited her every day, at different times, and sometimes more than once. They made my mum walk to the toilet each time she needed to go, and she was in agony walking. The doctors said that she would be in pain, and that it was the best way to get the healing done. This went on for many days, and my mum was getting worse. In fact she was not eating her meals. I brought in some 'ready meals' and microwaved them for her, helped her eat them and she enjoyed them and ate them all up. Whenever I went to visit her, I discovered that she was not eating the food that was left for her. One time I arrived at lunch time. There was an over-the-bed wheeled table which was positioned at the bottom of the bed, and when needed it was pulled up to the patient in the bed so that she could reach what was on the table. In my mum's case it was her meal. My mum could not reach the table, and nobody came to move it for her, she told me that, as I moved the table so she could reach. She said that the orderly returned a little later to clear away the empty dishes, saw mum had not touched hers, so just removed it thinking that mum just didn't like the food of that day. Nothing had been reported to nurses apparently. I was horrified when I found out the truth of what had been happening, and had quite a serious talk with the senior nurse, stopping just short of very raised voices. By this time, my mum had become very weak and just didn't want much to eat any way. At this time, about 10 days into mum's hospital stay, it was decided that they would do a scan on her pelvis, because they were puzzled that mum wasn't making progress.

It was found that she had sustained a hairline fracture of the pelvis, and they had made her walk to the toilet for 4 or 5 days until she just didn't have energy to move out of bed. Nio wonder she was in agony! I was gobsmacked. It had taken them 10 bloody days to decide to do a scan!! So apart from systematically starving my mother, they failed in their patient care over the scan business. When I visited on the 11th day, I was told the scan results, and I was furious. I said that I have to get some nourishment inside my mother, had they got anything that would be easily digested. I was taken to the small side kitchen to that ward, where I had actually microwaved those meals for my mum. A large cupboard was opened and I could see shelves full of different flavoured dried food, both savoury and sweet. They were in boxes sufficient for one good helping for an invalid, full of good nourishment, necessary vitamins, minerals etc. I almost lost it, at that point - why had the nursing staff not offered this to my mother???? 'We hadn't realised there was a problem with her eating' FFS.

I mixed her some, myself, and though it was not actually the time for a meal, I spoon fed her. She ate about half of it and said it was very nice, and went down easily. I thought 'thank God!'. Now we can make some progress.

I told the nursing staff to feed her breakfast, lunch, tea and supper with this boxed food. Jesus, I wasn't a bloody nurse! I couldn't be there all the time!!

They were the bloody nurses! OK, they were under staffed, but that was no excuse to let my mum starve ! Patient care my arse! I specially made plans to catch the doctor on his rounds in the morning, and I had a heart to heart very politely with him. He seemed concerned that my mum had been so neglected, and said that it would not happen again. He did glower at the nursing sister when he said that.

Unfortunately, it was all too late. My mum contracted the dreaded MRSA, also pneumonia, and because of her dreadfully weakened state, there was no way she could fight it. Because she had MRSA she was moved to a single bed, side room, where they had lots of hand-washing facilities and they introduced hand-washing at each entrance to the ward - special self-drying fluid. Too late for my dear mum........................................

She died. She had all her children with her, and some of her grandchildren.

I wanted to expose the hospital for what I considered as inhuman negligence, but on enquiry through my solicitor, we would have lost quite a bit of money with legal representation - if we did win the case, the compensation would not have covered our costs. On the other hand we may not have won the case, because there was no real evidence of neglect, except what my mother had said, and possibly what the orderly may or may not have said, oh and the x-ray pics compared to the scan evidence. I went away and had a family discussion. Nobody really wanted to drag it out in what might be a sordid court case, it would just prolong the pain of loosing our mum. So we decided to not proceed.

But I know that my mum, being pretty healthy and fit before the fall, would not have died had she been given the proper care. That is all that was needed - to be nursed, by nurses. Not much to ask really. I believe that she could have still been alive today. This happened 8 years ago

I'm so sorry mum, that I let you down, that you died too soon, and you were so uncomfortable. I miss you so much.

Thank you for the opportunity to talk about this. It has helped a little to come to terms with my guilt that I feel that I should have done more, visited at least twice a day, supervised her meal times and insisted on having a scan after a couple of days. But you trust that these people know what they are doing, that they have been trained to the highest standards, that their first and foremost interest is for the patients that are in their care.


Well Gill I know you to have done all you possibly could have done. You wanted what was best for your mother and this obviously wasn't achieved by those that promise to extend the best care possible by simply taking the job of "nurse" or "doctor".

I had taken my prerequisites with students training to be medical assistants and quite frankly some scare me.
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chonsigirl
Posts: 33631
Joined: Mon Mar 07, 2005 8:28 am

Gone but never forgotten

Post by chonsigirl »

Hand in hand walking through meadow of gold

poppies, his smile brightens a small child’s heart

as his steps slow while flower she beheld

blossomed love without them saying a word.

On faint breeze he flew away forever

dissolved in dreams with loss of hope’s giver.

Glance of his gentle face with deep blue eyes

as grandson looks toward his mother’s path

reveals symbol of life’s remnant of passed,

placing amber buds near gravestone’s repast.

Now climbing upward through gentle hill’s lore,

two side by side again in a new dawn

reborn in sunshine of love will endure

generations, his memory lives on.

******

A Valentine I wrote for my Father this year. He died many years ago, but I still miss him alot.

They live on in memory and those who are here can sometimes glimpse those images of the past, present with us now.
hoppy
Posts: 4561
Joined: Fri Mar 21, 2008 8:58 am

Gone but never forgotten

Post by hoppy »

In my 18th year my gramps had reached a point where he was content to spend more and more days sitting in his corner of our big kitchen. He would sit rocking in his rocker beside his old Philco table radio, smoking and sipping from his fruit jar of homemade whisky. Gone were the of days long hours in the fields on our tractors. Gone were the deer hunts in the autumn woods he so loved.

Occasionally, on warm summer days, gramps would shuffle out to our junk yard behind the barn. That's where all our wore out machinery, tractors, cars and trucks wound up. Gramps's last truck was a '39 Chevrolet pickup. It sat there quietly rusting away. Gramps would climb in and just sit there puffing on his pipe, no doubt remembering better times long gone.

And that's where I found him, his last day with us.
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Oscar Namechange
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Joined: Wed Jul 30, 2008 9:26 am

Gone but never forgotten

Post by Oscar Namechange »

My Father had plenty of warning that he would die. It took 4 years for the cancer to finally take It's toll.

He wanted to die at home and spent some days there In bed. He had a bell that he'd ring If he needed something. I would race up the stairs on hearing the bell and ask him what he needed only to be told, he'd forgotton.

Four days before he died, he could not make the bathroom one day and I took him. With that, he booked himself Into the RAF hospice... 'No Daughter of mine Is taking me to the tiolet' he said.

Every day, he would ask me 'Have you seen your eldest brother?' I knew he was not asking any of the other family this question'. He had fallen out with my brother some 12 years earlier over a cricket match of all things. Both of them were similar In that they were the most stubborn people I have ever known and all attempts by family to reconcile them would result In both saying 'He knows where I am'.

When the consultant told us Father only had days left, nearly all my family said to me 'Don't you dare tell your eldest brother because he hasn't bothered for 12 years'. I couldn't get my head round this and In one row with my late sister, I told her 'Your not stopping your brother from seeing his Father.... Your stopping your Father from seeing his son'. Many many arguments followed this and time was running out, so I phoned my eldest brother. He Immediately came to my home but the big question was... Would Father want to see him?

The next day, In another argument, my late sister told me that If I took my eldest brother to that Hospice the family would dis-own me. Grief does strange things to people and she wasn't normally like this but It was a threat I didn't take lightly.

My Father had a never ending stream of visitors at the hospice so getting my Brother In there any-way was tricky.

The following day I went In to see my Father and told him he had a special visitor next day. He was almost asleep but he sat upright and his face beamed. I knew then that he thought I meant my eldest Brother but It was actually an old RAF pilot coming to see him. I saw the dissapointment on his face when I explained who the special visitor was.

That night, remembering the way his face lit up, I went to see my Brother. Getting him In the Hospice was difficult and I feared we would be seen and be turned away by family before we could get In there.

So, we went at 6 am and as we predicted, the Hospice was very quiet.

I went In first and told Father that his eldest son was waiting outside but stressed that If he didn't want to see him, my brother would walk away. father said 'The question Is... Does he want to see me'? I told him that he obviousley would not be pacing the corrider outside If he didn't.

I went and called my brother In. The tears ran down my Father and my brothers faces. Father was lying down, and he held his arm out. My brother clasped his hand for the first time in 12 years. Father said 'We've been a pair of silly Billys haven't we?' Then I left the room. My Brother came out an hour and a half later and said he wants to see you. I went In and my father said 'I can go now'.

We went out Into the carpark and was spotted by my sister and I knew the Shyte was going to hit the fan taht day.

Later In the afternoon, My eldest brother called at my house to tell me that my Father had gone. My Mother had rang him and asked him as the eldest and closest to me to come and tell me for her.

We all gathered at my parents house that evening and my sister had a face like a smacked arsse because my Mother told us that when she went Into my father that morning he had told her he had seen M*** and he could go now. My mother said thank God I never listened to any-thing any-one ever tells me because It was what he wanted all along.

Just before he went Into the Hospice, I was sitting on his bed one day and he asked me If there was ever a time In my life where I did not feel wanted and loved. Of course I said no and he said 'I've done my job then'.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them. R.L. Binyon
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Betty Boop
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Gone but never forgotten

Post by Betty Boop »

My Dad, 15 years ago. Too young to go at just 65 but I realised he'd given up. I know why and I understand why.

It's a huge pity you didn't get to meet my children they're both blessed with your very dark hair, (even though everyone says that's thanks to mother in law :rolleyes:.) I have photos of you on the mantelpiece and the children know you.

I regret not knowing what you wanted, it was never spoken about, you were buried in the end because of me. I couldn't cope with burning my Dad, maybe that was selfish of me but I just couldn't get my head round it :-1.

I even spoke of you last night during Earth Hour, the three of us sat around by candlelight and I told my children how I remembered doing just that as a girl. I would share a candle with you and we would read or play cards, I think you used to let me win sometimes :wah:. I remember the Compendium of Board games we used to drag out and make you play, you were very patient at teaching games.

I've just thought of all those Roast Dinners of yours I helped you eat, you would sometimes go for a drink of a Sunday lunchtime and dinner would have been well over by the time you got back and your lunch would be re-heated in the oven. I wonder why you let me eat most of your dinner when I'd already eaten a plateful a few hours before, yours always tasted better somehow.

You were always in demand in the local neighbourhood being a reliable mechanic for lots of friends, when you weren't fixing others you were tinkering with our Cortina. I spent hours under the bonnet with you learning what all the different parts were, how to check the oil, I became your assistant to run to the shed for a spanner or a wrench. It makes me smile to remember our totally personalised Cortina after you painted her red, it sort of ended up with a funny matt mottled red finish, quite unlike anything seen before :wah:

The car park in town is where your workplace used to be, I can still picture the garage as it was and remember the time I spent there waiting for you to finish work. You would let me have some money and I'd nip out the back door to the newsagents for sweets for me and Fisherman's Friends for you, the white packet though, had to be the white ones.

You were my taxi, my cobbler, my puncture repair man, my friend but most of all you were my Dad who I loved very much, such a pity we were not a demonstrative family who actually said it to each other hey. I Love you and miss you Dad, everyday :-4:-4:-4
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Oscar Namechange
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Gone but never forgotten

Post by Oscar Namechange »

I wasn't there the night you died Mother but that was my choice. I didn't come to see you In the Funeral Parlour either because that was my choice.

After your stroke, you lasted 12 weeks unable to speak and paralysed. You always said when father died you wanted to die also so we knew you had given up.

The night before you died, I got to tell you all the things I wanted to say and I know you heard me because you squeezed my hand. The next night when we were called to your bedside, I told my eldest Brother I could not bear to watch you take your last breath. He said he understood and you wouldn't think badly of me If I left. I wouldn't have gone Had your other sons and daughters not of been there. The call came at just gone midnight.

I didn't go to see you In the Funeral parlour. I knew my sister had dressed you In your Sunday Best and done your hair.

I remembered back to seeing Father In the Funeral parlour and how cold he was. I didn't want to see you cold. I wanted to remember you as my warm mum always laughing.

When I come home to Sussex I check that the family is keeping your graves nice but I prefer to go to your Mothers Pub where you were born and began your life, not where you ended It. There are still signs of the old War time US air base next to the pub where you used to go dancing while Father was away.

I'll be back there soon and If I close my eyes, I can Imagine you singing for the troops again.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them. R.L. Binyon
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Rapunzel
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Gone but never forgotten

Post by Rapunzel »

Such sad, sweet stories, but so full of love . . . and actually, love is what counts, in the end. :-4

Hugs to you all for sharing your stories. :-4 :yh_hugs

And hugs to those with stories they're not ready to share too. :-4 :yh_hugs
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LarsMac
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Post by LarsMac »

I didn't think it would bother me that much, but today is the anniversary of my mother's death.

I drove through blizzard to get back when the wife called to tell me that she had all but gone.

Kinda weird. The week before, at the rehab center, she had been rather quiet, and when I told her I was going out of town for the week, she was upset that I was going to be gone until the end of March, but wouldn't tell me why.

So I get the call that she has become unresponsive and appears to have all but shut down and the want to put respirator on her to keep oxygen in her till I can get home.

So I take off driving because the blizzard that came through yesterday had shut down the airport and there was only standby flights available. I caught up with the blizzard just east of Hays around sunset, and and it took me till midday the next day to get home.

As soon as I got there I could see that she was, even though unresponsive to much, truly bothered by the respirator mask.

She seemed to be trying to reach up and move it.

I asked if she wanted me to get rid of the mask, and her eye focused for a moment, and I could see acknowledgment there.

I asked to the mask to be removed. They complied. She gave a deep sigh, and settled down into that slow deep steady breathing, that I had only seen in people and critters about to die. No blinking, eyes half open, pupils fixed.

Then my sister and daughter and nieces showed up from the South. Almost like she had been waiting for them, her pulse began to slow and breathing became slower deeper, with longer pauses.

Within half an hour, it all came to a stop. She was gone.

For the whole year I have been remembering what we had been doing the year before at this time.

Where we had dined, or when the wife and I took her to see her brother, and the trip to Atlanta for her eightieth birthday.

Then the health problems started up, the trips to the doctor, the hospital. The fall and broken arm, and the rehab centers and hospitals, and endless days of waiting at the hospital. All those memories and Recriminations for what I might have done differently and one time or another that might have made a difference.

Finally the end of that year.

I think I can move on now.

I want to forget the last two years and only remember how she was, before - Quick to smile, and laugh, eager to try new things or go to new places, meet new people.

She was the one of my parents that was always the adventurer.

Learning to cook Mexican and Italian food when we lived in California, and always willing to try new foods. Ready to drive up to Cocoa to watch the space shots, or take a boat ride into the Everglades, or help someone who needed a ride or a kid minded, or to visit folks in the hospital.

And even as she rebuked me and scolded, she stood by me through my rebellion, my violent years, the times when I could have become something else. Her belief in my goodness helped me return to sanity, and become what I am today.

The kindest heart I have ever known. An example of God's love, and the best of the human heart, she was.

Strong in her convictions and never complaining, and loyal to her friends and family.

Bye, Mom. We miss you.
"In recognizing the humanity of our fellow beings, we pay ourselves the highest tribute."
- Thurgood Marshall
K.Snyder
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Post by K.Snyder »

I wish I would have visited my grandparents more before they'd passed. I suppose I was trying to deny the fact they were getting older. I thought if I could deny it that it would go away but all that happened was me living with the regret of not visiting with them as much as innately possible.
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Odie
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Post by Odie »

November 14, 1965

My dad, age 45 died suddenly from a heart attack while bowling on a Sunday with his team. His friends gave him his medicine, but this time, it didn't work.

Dad had a heart attack 5 years prior and it took a lot out of him, but as time passed, he regained his strength.

I was only 14, I was in shock.

Dad wasn't overweight, nor smoked, why did god take him from me?

Since then, I do not believe there is a god or he would have taken scum off the streets, not my Dad.

Dad spent quality time with me every year at our cottage, he taught me how to fish and how to operate a boat and motor.

We would go out every morning at 6am and again at night.

We would spend many hours talking about fishing at home and I just had to watch his fishing shows!



I circled his grave in beach rocks and planted hostas, they should be growing soon, I must go and see them.

I had a picture laminated and set by his tombstone.

Sometimes it feels like yesterday.

god bless you dad, you were the best.:-4
Life is just to short for drama.
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Oscar Namechange
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Post by Oscar Namechange »

To my Sister.

It started with a small lump didn't It? It was removed and you thought It was the end of It.

A few years later and 9 gruelling courses of Chemo, You gave up. You didn't want your children to see you like that any more.

A year before you died, you were so Ill but although you normally didn't like such noisey places, you booked 12 self catering Chalets at Butlins In Somerset not just for you and your children but for us all. You wanted all the families children together In one place almost as though you knew It'd be the last time you saw them.

You spent that year so Ill sleeping downstairs with an oxygen tank because the Breast Cancer had spread to your lungs. I think you gave up when Lynda McCartney died because her Breast cancer had spread to her liver. Sure enough, yours did too.

How you hung on for that year I just don't know. Weighing at the end around 5 stone, you put all her energy Into making that holiday.

On the way there, an ambulance had to revive you on the way and on arriving you were whisked off to hospital to be revived again. They wanted to keep you In but you were having none of It.

I don't know how you lasted that week but I know you never complained. We sat for hours every day just doing the thing you loved must, watching the children play. I know you couldn't bear the loud music In the Caberets at night but some-how you sat through them all to see the children join In.

On the last night as I left you, I kissed you and knew It was the last kiss goodbye I'd ever give you.

On arriving home you were so Ill you were taken Into the Hospice. They told your children It was to give your husband a rest.

The morning you died, I wasn't there because I was on the phone manically phoning your brothers and children to get them there In time. I'm so pleased your children and husband and our brother was there. You didn't need me, you had your own family.

After Butlins we had tried to keep you going as your last wish was to see the Twins start their first day at school. I'm so sorry you missed them but Little A**** was the Spitting Image of our mother In her new school uniform. You would have rightly been so proud of them.

The Church was so packed at your funeral, I was shocked to see over 400 people there. The Vicar must have thought It was his birthday giving a service to so many that they were even standing outside. You couldn't be buried with our Mother and Father because the Village Graveyard was so full. We buried you In the Middle of the Sussex Downs exactly where you took the children every year to see the Lambs being born. We've had to put wire around your grave because the Rabbits eat your flowers but I know you'd find that funny. By Co-Incidence, your husbands sister died of cancer the same day as you. You died at 1 Midday and she died just before Midnight. When they buried her next to you, I knew you two would be jawing away like you always did. On the other side of you, they buried old Mr C******. You remember him. You took me to him when I was 5 years old for one of his kittens.

The times I miss you most has to be Christmas when the whole family would pile Into your house. Your brother dressed up as Father Christmas to give presents to the children and you'd hide notes In the fir tree's for the children from Santa. You dressed your house up with so many lights that the neighbours called your house Southfork.

Your husband said that after you went, he couldn't cope with the over 1,000 exotic birds you had but when you did go he could not bear to part with one single one. They are all still there In your garden and when I arrive at your house I can hear them singing before I've even got In the road. I remember the night of the Hurricane when you, me and other family hung on to those birds Avairies all night. It amazed me that every time new Chicks were born, you knew exactly which pair had bred them.

It's funny... Remember how much I hated those Sunday Cricket Matches where your husband and our brothers played every Sunday? The excuses I'd come out with to avoid them? Yet, I'd give anything now to see you and our Mother making the tea's In the Pavillion.

There Is not one day when I don't think of you and miss you but as we always say... Never say Goodbye... Until we meet again.

When I go to our Mothers Mums pub where she was born, I look up at the window where you were also born. You'd not like the new decor, the old fireplaces you loved have been ripped out.

When you died, I was so angry for a long time. You were so young and It was so unfair. I was the chain smoker yet you never had put one ciggerette In you mouth and didn't like alcohol. You were just on the verge of starting your own Insurence company when you worsened. You loved you food though didn't you? Every family do, we always knew we were In for a good spread. Everything was home made and I've never found Cream Horns and Profiteroles the way you made them. I remember how little G***** too tiny to stand by you would sit on the work-top and help you make cakes.

You have left behind 3 beautiful children. I remember your funeral and a big family discussion as to weather the Littles should attend but your funeral was a celebration of your life and they wanted to go. How they Miss You !!! The worst thing I have ever had to do was comfort your children as they threw red roses on your coffin as you were lowered Into the ground. One thing made up for It though. Your brother after the 12 year fued with our Father Insisted on being at your Funeral. he even helped make the tea afterwards... Now there's a first !!

Anyway... See you one day soon V******. xxxx
At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them. R.L. Binyon
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Imladris
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Post by Imladris »

These are amazing, thank you to everyone who is sharing their stories. A huge comfort.



I just want to remember my grandad. I never really knew my mother's father, he died when I was five, the only memory I really have of him is him shouting at my uncle who must have been only 12 or 13 at the time - that saddens me.



My other grandad died when I was coming up to 13. He'd spent his working life as a drey man delivering for Whitbreads in London. He used to love the shire horses he worked with and he also used to show them at the Horse of the Year Show and take part in the Lord Mayor's parade. He was awarded the BEM and one of the many photos on display in my nan's house was of him, my dad and his brother on the day he received his medal.



I mainly remember him for being a loving fun grandad. He'd spend hours brushing my long blonde hair and plaiting it as if it was one of his horses tails! He used to teach me cheeky rhymes mainly to make himself laugh! He was very sociable and loved having people in the house, Christmas always used to be an occasion where people would just drop by for a drink 'Jack said to call in'. He always had bitter lemon in the front room with the beer for me.



I miss him more now than when he died - he would have loved my daughter, my brothers boys and all the other additions to the family.
Originally Posted by spot

She is one fit bitch innit, that Immy





Don't worry; it only seems kinky the first time
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Oscar Namechange
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Post by Oscar Namechange »

To my Father:

I have thought long and hard about writing this because you were such a private man. You didn't like attention or fuss and you'd no doubt say I was making a fuss now.

Your Father brought you to England when you were 8 years old from Ireland so he could join the British Army but just a year later he was blown up on the Somme. Your mother died a year later from a sudden Illness. Orphaned, you stayed with a series of aged Aunts for six months at a time and then you were moved on.

When you were old enough you joined the RAF and served as a Pilot In WW2. You never spoke much of that time In your life and you didn't like folk to make a fuss of you because of It.

After the war you became Chauffer to a Famous couple and that's where you got your love of Vintage Cars. You worked so hard and really did well for yourself working In your car showroom and garage In the High Street. Your Show-room Is a Coffee shop now and you'd hate It.

I was amazed as a child at the amount of people who knew you and even now those who are left still call you The True Gentleman. You cut a dashing figure at 6ft 4 inches In your Trilby hat and Trench Coat. I remember how manners were everything to you and you would doff your hat when saying good Morning to the Ladies out shopping.

During the 50's and 60's you fostered Under-priviledged children. You could have treated them to all manner of things but you gave them your time spending days at the sea-side and on Picnics.

To you, Education was everything and you took us and the foster children out for days where you taught us every Butterfly, Tree, Bird etc.

One of your favourite days was The London to Brighton race and you'd enter your coaches In the coach competition on Brighton Esplanade. I can remember the frantic chrome polishing on those coaches to get them ready.

Every so often, It was your day and we went to see your passion... Horse Racing.. a Passion you passed onto myself and your son.

Although I hated all those cricket matches, I was so proud of you when every year you were voted President of our Cricket Team for nearly 30 years.

You did well for yourself but you hated waste. You were always reminding us that there were children you had no parents and not enough to eat.

It wasn't until I was much older that In a rare moment you talked to me about It. You told me that when you were orphaned, there had been a war and everything was rationed. You were passed from Aunt to Aunt every six months and the words you always waited to hear was that you didn't have to pack this time because you were staying... But they were never said. That's why you fostered children. You didn't want them feeling the way you were made to feel.

I wonder every day what you would think of some of the things I do such as join the BNP but really I know your answer... 'If It's what you believe In.. then do It...Yesterday Is gone'.

One thing that brought you great sadness was that your son was unable to have children. You were not to know that after you died, he re-married and at the age of 50, had his first and only son. H Is 5 years old now and you would have adored him. I remember when he was born and the moment I saw his long fingers and long legs, I knew he was just like you. He looks more and more like you every day and that's maybe why I adore him so much. You would be so proud of him, he Is so talented like you. He plays the piano and he has a passion for horses and can ride your sons horses well. We talk to him about you all the time and when he's a little older we will tell him what you did In the war. I am passing your War time things on to him especially the Silver statue our Mother gave you when you left for the war.

When you retired you had time for another passion In your life... gardening and you won Best Garden In Sussex one year and got In the newspapers.

On your 50th wedding Anniversary, you thought your son was taking you out to your favourite resturant for lunch. What you didn't know was that we had been scheming for months and had booked the whole resturant. We organised a 'This Is your Life' and found long lost war vets and people you hadn't seen for years. I made you and Mother an Anniversary cake of two hearts entwined with your names on It. We even had boxes of matches made for each table with your names on them. After all the celebrations, you and I slipped away so you could have a pint In the local pub. I over-heard you telling your friend the Landlord that It was the happiest day of your life.

You gave us so much... Wisdom, Education, strength and confidence.

There are many things I could tell people about you but one always stood out. When I was 10 years old, another girl began to bully me at school. Instead of you being angry, you Invited her to our next day out at the funfair. She never bullied me again but I didn't understand at 10 why you did that. When I was old enough to Understand you told me her father was In prison and her mother struggled with the children. She's In America now but she remembers you as every-one remembers you... The Gentleman and my Dad. xxxxxxxxx
At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them. R.L. Binyon
southern yankee
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Gone but never forgotten

Post by southern yankee »

The 2 most dearest people in my life have been gone for years now. my mother and my grandma.

first my mother. she will be gone for 15 years, this may. the Lord took her home. the day before mother's day. She was not just a great mom. but a loyal, true friend. i could always count on.I miss her sooo much.

Then my grandma. has gone to heaven, in 1974. at her wake. her preacher and almost the whole congergation was there. they told my mother, that my grandmother was a saintly woman. She was what a grandma was suposed to be. a short in statur woman. but made up for that with her love for people.

i miss them both so dearly. but i know one day i will be with them again. that is very comferting.:-4:-4
rissa
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Joined: Mon Jun 07, 2010 11:24 am

Gone but never forgotten

Post by rissa »

My Brother,allways love you,

KEITH we all love you bro.

GOD BLESS YOU.

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