You slept last night to not awake I couldn't believe that day My ears ringing My eyes full of tears I had to keep myself composed For the ones around me I suppose I still carry you in my heart Well what's left of it now we're apart You meant a lot to me I hope you knew that before you slept The morning you were found dead in your bed I'm sorry you suffered so much before then I hope now you’re truly at rest Your funerals next Friday, Don't worry I'll look my best! Before you fell into internal rest You spoke two words I will forever, hold close to my chest ‘Thank you’…. Even if they were not addressed to me The words I do believe Should be more for you than me Thank you for the money you have spent The days you laid awake thoughts in your head The sweet treats you always had for us after school The unwavering support no matter what it be The words even if some be harsh We know you speak them from the heart The best Grandmother you will be I should probably just bow at your feet My gratitude towards you These words could not pursue So I write this poem for you, Hoping the message goes through. - Alice

For Mum… I would like to have read these words myself. It is an impossibility. In the words of Wayne Mardle while commentating on the greatest leg of darts of all time; “I can’t spake! I can’t spake!” Mum wrote a brief auto-biographical timeline of her life last year. Reading it back highlights some of the struggles she was facing at the time and echoes her often deflated mood when we saw her: Jo and I would ask: “Are you alright?” There would be the briefest of pauses before the inevitable response; “No. I’m fed up.” Only once was this followed by anything more significant. Anyone visiting their loved one on the stroke ward in Maidstone Hospital in August 2023 would have heard the following brief exchange; “How you doing?” “Fine………. I shat myself last night.” Blunt. To the point. It’s fair to say that most of the time mum opted against social niceties. The last 9 months have been tough for her and for us all. Through the struggle we have all seen glimpses of her true-self enjoying the opportunity to reflect and reminisce on our lives. We’ve had occasional moments when she’s giggled to the point of tears or called one of us a ‘Silly sod’ because she’s laughed and then wet herself! In fact, most of us have been called something disparaging. ‘Idiot face’ is a personal favourite but Kath & Dad’s thoroughly supportive care being summarised as ‘something akin to the Gestapo’ brings me personal solace at least. None of that mattered. I knew, like we all do, that her dedication, protection and love for her family was unswerving. And so to her life; Mum was born just after the start of the Second World War on 29th July 1941 to Ivan and Norah. They were married, shot-gun style, shortly after, remaining together for over 60 years. A catastrophic car accident befell the family when mum was 6 and she then spent her childhood protecting her younger sister, Jan, who had suffered a hole in the front of her skull. Protecting others was a recurring theme of her life and she would routinely seek out those in need to support and protect; challenging authority with vigour and occasional glee. If mum thought something was wrong or inappropriate you would know about it. Aged 21 she married Frank whom she had known since the age of 6. Her first daughter, Vicky, was born in 1968. She left Frank after 10 years as he was, in her words, a compulsive gambler. Having met dad (John) through football or cricket or a combination of the two she then gave birth to Katharine in 1974. Lesley & John married later the same year ultimately achieving a half-century of marriage together in March this year. The family lived in Rainham strategically positioned to be away from her own mum’s influence! I followed in 1976. As the family grew and dad’s role as provider developed mum cemented her position as the matriarch. Dad would head off to work each week, returning on a Friday with a large bunch of flowers. Mum was left in her favoured housewife role caring for each of us and any one of the multitude of pets we had. She recently professed to preferring animals to people. I suspect this is because they cost less and don’t answer back! Mum’s, and the family’s, friendship with the Turner family began in the early eighties. I believe she met Frank outside the gates of Kath’s school striking a conversation due to him being covered almost head to foot in chalk. It turned out he was digging a swimming pool! The moments they and the families' shared across the rest of her life brought laughter and happiness primarily at home but occasionally stretching across European boundaries. I suspect she is currently sitting on a cloud with Frank enjoying a drink of something nice (maybe not homemade!) while he rattles through exuberant renditions of ‘Nellie Dean’ or the ‘Laughing Policeman’. ‘Mum’ became ‘Granny’ with the arrival of Zac and Alice in 2009 and most recently Reuben in 2019. Her desire and passion for not only the non-conventional but also making sure her children got what they wanted is the ultimate testimony I can write. She’s spent all of their lives worrying about each of them, each of us. Spending sleepless nights problem solving and then days guiding and counselling us on what needed to happen to help them flourish. While I’m sad that she won’t be physically next to Jo and I for our adoption journey I know she will be watching with pride and satisfaction repeating the question she’s always asked; “What do you need?” Mum’s affinity with home align to the importance she placed on it. She would say: “Never do anything to jeopardise the roof over your head.” The fact that she saw out her last weeks and days at home met with what she always wanted and bring some comfort. Her last words to me should echo for us all; “I hope it goes alright. Go careful.” DIH

On Sunday morning I answered the front door to Richard, a Jehovah’s Witness, who had called to find out how Lesley was getting on. He was very upset to find out she had passed away. Over many years Richard, often accompanied by his wife and daughter, had called regularly for a chat with Lesley. I had a long conversation with Richard about Lesley and I thought his memories as an outsider were appropriate. The first thing he told me was how much he enjoyed the meetings he had with Lesley and particularly their discussions on the scriptures. This surprised me a little bearing in mind her position on religion in her later years. However, in my opinion, she just enjoyed their company as human beings rather than anything else. Richard’s daughter had some personal difficulties in her life which were brought up one day. Lesley spoke to her about these and he remembers how grateful he was for the helpfulness and kindness which Lesley provided. I have to say that Lesley had a wonderful skill in finding the right thing to say, write or do in any situation. I can vouch for this from letters she wrote to me some time ago and which I treasure. Richard’s last words to me when he left were “I shall never forget her!” I think we can all agree with that. If I were St Peter I would hand Lesley the keys to the kingdom of heaven and wave her in without hesitation. JRH