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My Eulogy: Of the two of them, it was my Dad who was the one most likely to crack a joke or two, but Mum had a quiet wit about her. Early on in my relationship with Lily - whom the more observant of you might have noticed is originally from America - we were visiting Mum and Dad and she brought out some sandwiches for us, saying to me "I've put tomatoes in yours, and ‘tomay-dohs’ in Lily's". But let’s start somewhere near the beginning. Sometime in the late 1940s two young people, namely Bob Foster and Gwen Hibberd, worked for Dunlop in Coventry. Bob's friend and colleague, Brian, took a liking to Gwen and asked Bob if he'd ask her out for him. Not sure why Brian couldn't do it himself, but I'm glad he couldn't, otherwise perhaps I wouldn't be here today. Bob did ask her on Brian's behalf only to find that Gwen didn't much like Brian, but she did like him. Fast forward three years or so and the two were married. I don't know too much about who Mum was before that time, but I know that afterwards she was all about the family. I think in general, that children, although closer to their mothers than almost anyone else, are always going to have a somewhat skewed perspective. It's hard to see your parents as fully rounded human beings outside of their role as parents. However, I think in my Mum’s case, she really was all about the family Family was pretty nearly everything to Mum. Dad of course, and her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but also the family members of her generation and all of the children of that generation, my cousins, and all of their partners and children. It always felt to me that Mum's house was the centre of our extended family. When you walked through the door, you were made to feel that you had just come home, even for those who'd not grown up in that house. As Laura pointed out to me the other day, the list of people she got Christmas presents for was immense! She was never happier than when hosting the whole family at their house. Something else Laura reminded me of, that made me smile: how she would ply us all with food non-stop and be so disappointed if you didn't want the hundredth biscuit or cake she offered you. And talking of things food related, Mum didn’t profess to be a great cook - in fact even if she had been, she'd always have been far too modest to say so - but she was a wonderful baker. Her pies and cakes were amazing. I can still bring to mind the taste of her lemon meringue pie, and of the chocolate cake she'd invariably bake for me on my birthday as a child. Every Christmas she'd bake literally hundreds of mince pies to distribute around the family, and I've yet to meet another mince pie that lived up to hers. As Lily said in her Facebook tribute to my Mum, “whenever you visited there was always tea, always a spread of food laid across the table, always something she had baked herself, which was like eating a little slice of heaven”. Sunday roast at Mum and Dad’s house was always a tradition for us as children, and remained one as we moved into adulthood and became parents ourselves. Any Sunday you’d be likely to find one or more of us along with our spouses and children tucking into a delicious feast at lunchtime. Somehow we also always seemed to manage to make room for tea later on, with a spread containing all sorts of delights, finishing off with cakes, biscuits or chocolates; sometimes all three. I don’t know how we survived, but if I could, I’d go back to one of those days in an instant. I said earlier that Mum had a quiet wit, and also that she was far too modest to brag about anything. In fact I can’t recall a single instance of her being prideful. But she had a quick and nimble mind. Lily and I were once talking with her about the price of petrol and how much more it costs here than in the USA, and Mum tilted her head and did a quick bit of mental arithmetic with the variables such the price in litres here, the price in gallons over there, taking into account the current exchange rate and the difference between imperial and US gallons, to come up with a number that turned out to be almost exactly right. It was immensely sad to see how her dementia increasingly affected her over the past couple of years of her life, and especially sad that due to the current pandemic, none of us were able to see her in these past few months. But I’ll always remember the vibrant person she was before any of that. She’ll be missed by so many people. Thank you for everything Mum.
Alison Foster
Alison Foster
Throughout my childhood I visited my grandma & grandad about three times a week, stayed with them often at weekends and spent much of the school holidays there. It was my second home and I felt so happy and relaxed when I was there. During these times, I remember Gram said to me, ‘When you’re older you won’t want to visit me anymore’. I promised her that I would, and to be honest it was an easy promise to keep as I genuinely loved her company. She was the ultimate host and the most wonderful cook making roast dinners, homemade chips and endless cakes. She let us try on her clothes, make dens in the living room and play hide and seek in her wardrobes. I loved listening to stories about the war and how she first met my grandad. I could sit there chatting to her for hours and often did. She gave me and my sisters £2 a week pocket money well into adulthood, despite us saying we were way too old, and she only had to overhear us talking about something we wanted for her to go and get it for us! Amongst any other chaos in life, being around her made me feel calm and safe. Family was everything to her and everyone was welcome from friends, to extended family to random cats and hedgehogs in the neighbourhood! I have never come across another person as generous, kind and loving as she was. My Gram was my favourite person and my biggest supporter. I genuinely could not say a single bad word about her! I can’t quite believe I’ll never see her again but I feel truly lucky to have had her for so long.
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