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Words from the Heart to say Goodbye

by Jennifer Ann Molloy

233 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); poetry; catalogue #06-0847; ISBN 1-4120-9091-1; US$22.25, C$25.59, EUR17.35, £11.50

A UNIQUE BOOK WITH A DUAL PURPOSE. Verses to comfort the already grieving, or to send with your flowers for souls newly leaving.

About the Book

A collection of gentle, sweet, personalised verses, for all family members and friends, to say goodbye to loved ones.

When you're tortured with grief, and it's hard not to stumble,
and the words that you speak just come out in a mumble.
At a time in your life, when you just want to hide,
but, with less than a week, there's so much to decide.

Inside of these pages, a verse you may find,
to say your goodbye with your loved one in mind.
The beauty of words, at this difficult time,
to put on your card with a personal rhyme,
will ease all the thinking you're expected to do,
on top of a week that you pray you'll get through.

The words offer hope, inspiration and love,
to all wounded souls who have loved ones above.
And for others, whose wounds are still open and new,
may the words be your blanket, to help you get through.

The book is dedicated to my dearest sister, Tricia, who passed away on 31st May 2005 after a twelve month battle fighting terminal lung cancer. Eight years earlier the disease had taken the life of her husband Norman. In his early twenties he had spent nine months working as a pipe lagger, lagging pipes with asbestos. Some thirty years later, the asbestos particles manifested in his lungs and he developed terminal lung cancer. FOR HER SINS, MY SISTER HAD WASHED HIS OVERALLS.

The name of this killer industrial disease - MESOTHELIOMA.

Tricia and Norman now back together,
to meander God's Heaven forever and ever.
Your ashes, we scattered, on Lake Windermere,
mingled with love, and sprinkled with tears.

Although written on the back of my grief for Tricia, these verses are not meant to instil sadness and pain, but to inspire hope and rekindle precious memories for all our loved ones, finally resting, and at peace.

Verses to comfort the already grieving.
Or to send with your flowers, for souls newly leaving

About the Author

I was born in Manchester, Lancashire, England, and made my grand entrance into this world in October 1943 near to the end of the war, and just prior to my mother having a nervous breakdown. (She later assured me it wasn't because of me!!) I was the third and last child, born to Agnes and William Staley and was greeted happily, by my 10yr old brother, Keith and my 5yr old sister, Patricia (Tricia, to me.)

I soon realised that being the much younger sister had its advantages. Whereas Keith and Tricia wasted time arguing, as the little sister, I never came into this equation. Also, money wasn't as tight and when I was just five years old, we were able to buy our first television set. It was all of nine inches in size and of course, in black and white. I became extremely popular with all the other kids!! Keith (who was at Della Salle Grammar School) would pick me up from my Nana's, and as soon as we got home and he went upstairs to do his homework, the kids would be queuing up in our back-yard. I would sneak them in to watch Muffin the Mule and the Flower Pot Men. And that's where Mum would find us when she came home from work, all sat as quiet as mice, mesmerised!!

My dad was a very kind and gentle man and my mother was the disciplinarian. She wore the trousers. Although, by the time I came on the scene, Mum and Dad had relaxed their parenting skills somewhat and Mum wasn't as strict with me ('spoilt' my sister would constantly say.) Keith was like another dad to me and he used to sit with me every night and help me with my homework. In the years that followed, Tricia, would take me shopping for all my clothes, do my hair in a beehive, and teach me to jive! She was the only person I would go to with my problems; she was my sister, my friend, and my mentor!

Our house was a neat, mid terraced property in Pemberton Street, Manchester. All the streets stood, like soldiers in a row, with just a narrow back entry separating each street. My mother was forever cleaning (she would even white-wash the inside walls of our outdoor coal-shed.) My dad used to raise his arms in utter frustration, but my mother was very strong willed. (I can still see her now, with an old blue beret, plonked, unceremoniously, on top of her unruly hair and wearing my dad's old grey Mac, which came down to her ankles.) I shared the middle bedroom with my sister, and, my brother had to walk through our bedroom, up another flight of stairs to the tiny little attic that doubled as his bedroom.) My cousins, Jean and Ian, used to stay most weekends. Their mother had died of T.B. when they were very young. They had to share our bed, so, it was me and Tricia at the top, and Jean & Ian at the bottom. Tricia was not particularly enamoured with this arrangement and we ended up with quite a few bruises if we got the giggles. (When Tricia went out, Jean and I would try on her clothes and totter about in her winkle-pickers!) Jean & Ian stayed each Christmas and our overcrowded house was always filled with laughter.

By the time I was thirteen, both Keith and Tricia were courting, with partners they were later to marry. A few evenings a week, my mother would play the piano at a local public house. She bought a second hand piano which took pride of place in our immaculate parlour. I could never understand why the parlour had to be so pristine when we only ever used it on special occasions!! I took to the piano and started playing tunes by ear, so my parents arranged for me to be taught by a classical music teacher. As I had to spend one hour each evening practising, I think I spent more time in the parlour than any other family member. Two evenings a week, Tricia's boyfriend, Norman, used to turn up on his bike which was then left in our back-yard whilst he took Tricia to the pictures. He always slipped me a sixpence so I was well and truly smitten.

My brother's girlfriend, Teresa, had come over from Ireland to train as a nurse. Keith used to play football for a well known local team. He was badly injured and for a while, was on the critical list at the Jewish Hospital in Cheetham, Manchester. And that's where he met Teresa - in his hospital bed!! She was a student nurse and lived-in and she sometimes used to sneak me into her room and let me stay the night. She'd invite some of her nursing friends and organise midnight feasts, (with food, that I very much suspected, came by courtesy of the hospital kitchens!) She was full of fun and always laughing. I felt very grown up to be part of all this excitement.

Teresa took me with her on the ferry to visit her family in Ireland, and to this day I can honestly say that was my best holiday ever. Her parents had a small-holding in County Monaghan and she had three brothers and two sisters. They taught me to milk the cows, feed the chickens, and ride a horse. (The only thing I would not do was stand in the middle of the chicken coop and chose Sunday lunch!!) We would pick potatoes from a nearby field and wash them in a stream that ran by the side of the house. Then, we all ate together round a large wooden kitchen table and, the jacket potatoes were truly, the best I have ever tasted. I became very friendly with Teresa's youngest brother, Pat, (until he put frogs and caterpillars in my bed.) He had to do a lot of grovelling to get back into my good books!

At the age of fourteen, I started a two year course at Loreburn Secretarial College in Manchester. The fees were quite high and all my school books, pencils, etc, had to be purchased direct from the college. I was a little nervous at first as I knew my parents had made sacrifices to give me this chance and I was very grateful to them. Fortunately, I took to shorthand like a duck to water and to this day I use it constantly.

I was bridesmaid at both, Keith & Teresa's, and Norman & Tricia's, weddings. I loved Teresa and Norman dearly and I just couldn't imagine, them not being in my life anymore. I now had two brothers and sisters!! By the age of 22yrs, I myself was married to my husband, Alan, and by that time we had three very small children, Gary, 3yrs, Joanne, 1yr and Simon, just six weeks old. Money was in short supply, so when Simon was twelve months old I was back in full time employment (thanks to the Grandparents.) When the children were still quite young, Teresa arranged for my dad to go into hospital for some routine tests. He never came out! At the age of 65yrs he had a massive heart attack and died in his sleep. Teresa was a tower of strength to us all. It was my very first experience of close personal grief, and I was inconsolable for months. Every time I looked into my mother's eyes I could feel her pain so deeply. Time Heals!!

In our late thirties (and with the agreement of our children who were by then 18, 16 and 15 yrs old) we sold up and bought the tenancy of a rural Public House. The Pub had a large Function Room and I catered for functions, and the daily lunch & evening pub meals. Towards the end of the third year, my mother had a serious stroke and I spent the next few months travelling to and from the hospital. We decided to leave the Pub. Mum wasn't going to get better and I wanted to be near her. In any event, we had both become disillusioned with pub life. Although we had put all our savings into this venture, we left with very little to show for all our hard work.

We bought a modest property and started over. One by one, the children left the nest to pursue their own careers. I was initially working as a Secretary for Greater Manchester Police. When they civilianised the role of 'Local Intelligence Officer', I applied for a post and was successful. After an intensive training course, I started work in the Crime Management Unit in Salford and I loved it. The work was demanding, sometimes daunting, but never dull. This was the first job ever, where I never 'clock-watched'. We now had Mum in a nearby Nursing Home run by trained nurses, and we were able to take her for days out and bring her home for family get-togethers.

Within the spate of the next four years, our lives were to change forever. My Sister in Law, Teresa, was diagnosed with Motor-Neurone decease. Twelve months later, my mother slipped away from us. Tricia and I were clinging onto her tiny hands for dear life, but, whilst the priest administered the last rights, she gave us one last smile and then gently closed her eyes. She died very peacefully.

For the past ten years, Teresa had been running a busy A & E department at North Manchester General, as Sister in Charge. Eventually, she had to finish work. She had lost a considerable amount of weight and her speech had become slurred. However, her courage, as ever, knew no bounds. My brother took early retirement to look after her and with the help of their three grown sons (and Teresa's positive, mental attitude) they adapted their life style and moved on.

Then another bombshell - my Brother in Law, Norman, was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. Thirty five years earlier he had worked as a Pipe Lagger, lagging pipes with asbestos. The asbestos particles had manifested in his lungs. The industrial decease was called Mesothelioma. Sadly, Teresa passed away just six months after learning about Norman. She had survived for eight years. Eighteen months later, we lost Norman. We were all devastated and my heart was breaking for Keith & Tricia and, for their children. Looking back, I just don't know how we all managed to get through. But somehow, we did!

I applied for early retirement from Greater Manchester Police and left after being 13 years in the post. At that time, my eldest son, Gary (by then married to my beautiful Daughter in Law, Claire) and my daughter, Joanne, were now running their own successful businesses, and my youngest son, Simon, was working in Spain as an Entertainments Manager, in a large family Hotel.

In March 2004, Alan and I turned our spare bedroom into an office and I started my own little secretarial business. For the very first time in years I didn't have to leave the house in the morning and battle with the traffic. Working from home meant that I could now organise my own work load and have some time to myself. I was now able to join the 'ladies that do lunch brigade' with my sister and close friends and I was very much enjoying myself. It was bliss.

But not for long. In September 2004, lightening struck twice. Tricia was diagnosed with the same disease as Norman - Mesothelioma. Incredulous as it may sound, caught, from washing his overalls, those many years ago. And so, began our battle to help my sister fight this cancer. Once again, the wonderful Macmillan nurses came to the fore. Tricia started her chemo in December, quietly, without any fuss - determined to fight. We prayed!! The chemo was taking its toll, but as ever, she never complained. When the treatment finished we were all relieved, but it was clear that she hadn't benefited. She had lost a lot of weight, and by now, was having difficulty walking.

Tricia had always been an avid reader; she constantly had a book on the go. (Reading had helped occupy her during her treatment.) When she confessed to me that she could no longer read because she kept losing concentration, I had enormous difficulty not breaking down in front of her. It was like a cold hand reaching inside my heart and twisting a knife. In March 2005, Tricia's best friend and soul mate, Eileen, came over from her home in Spain to become Tricia's main carer. They had been friends since their very first day at school and I have known Eileen all my life.

Two weeks after Eileen had arrived, Tricia began having dizzy spells and she had to have a brain scan at the hospital. Afterwards, we sat with Tricia's Consultant as she explained the results. We were told the cancer had spread to her brain and there was nothing else they could do. We all battled with our tears as we knew, this really was, the beginning of the end. My proud sister never broke down!!

Our other two very close friends, Lynne and Erica had put their lives on hold to be with Tricia throughout her ordeal, as did, my own children. It was a very distressing time for Tricia's three children, (my nephews, John & Steven and niece, Melanie) they had already lost their father to this dreadful disease and it was still almost impossible for us to accept, that it could be passed on in such a way. Eileen's daughter, Joanne, gave up all her time to support Melanie, and stayed over at her house as often as she could. Between us all, we somehow managed to mask our grief and devote our time to Tricia, making sure she had as many quality moments as possible. (These moments are now our very treasured memories.) Eileen, Erica and Lynne, gave their all. These very special friends gave their love and support to Tricia's family, and to me and my family. I will be eternally grateful to them, for their utter selflessness, and for making Tricia's last months as special, and as comforting, as possible.

On 24th May 2005, Tricia was to be admitted to St Anne's Hospice. I'm ashamed to say, that's when I totally lost it. I broke down in front of her children. My beautiful sister was leaving her home, never to return, and I simply couldn't bear it. I knew I had to stay strong for the family, but, just this one time, I couldn't stop my tears. The nurses at the Hospice were our 'Angels of Mercy'. They were professional, compassionate, and totally dedicated. The weather was warm and sunny and the patio doors to Tricia's room opened out to a beautiful garden, with Tables and Chairs placed outside each room. There was always a crowd of us in her room, so we were able to sit out and give her space, when needed. She had her good days and we had lots of laughs. She especially loved it when her granddaughter, Megan, and my little granddaughter, Sophie, danced in and out of her room, stroking her face and making her laugh. (Megan was born, two months after Norman had slipped away. At that time, Megan, became Tricia's life-line and was always, her very much adored granddaughter.)

We took turns to stay with Tricia through the night; she was never left on her own. She lasted just one week in the Hospice (it seemed like a life time to us.) On 31st May, after a long and painful struggle, she finally let go. It had been very hard for us, having to witness her final struggle, so we all breathed a sigh of relief. 'No pain-no gain' my brave sister would say. She was at peace now....

Tricia, had planned to have Norman's ashes buried in the church adjoining their house. For some reason this never materialised, and his ashes were still in the kitchen cupboard. My niece, Melanie, put both her parents' ashes side by side in the cupboard (just to make sure that they'd still get on!!) whilst we decided what to do. When our children were young, Norman had owned a boat, which, he had moored on Lake Windermere in the Lake District, Cumbria. Over the years, our families and close friends had enjoyed many happy times there. We decided that the Lakes would be the ideal place to say our final goodbyes to them both. My husband, Alan, made some enquiries with the Lake District, explaining our wishes, and they agreed that we could do this. He hired a suitable boat, with driver, to take us out. The night before, both Norman and Tricia's ashes were ensconced on our Dining Room table awaiting their final journey together. Alan had become very close to Norman over the years. Being an only child himself, he had looked upon Norman, as the brother he had never had. It seemed fitting; to us both, that they spend their last night with us.

On 25th September 2005, in the middle of Lake Windermere and in sight of the Lowood Hotel, (we'd frequented many times on our visits) we scattered Norman and Tricia's ashes (making sure they mingled together) and said our final goodbyes. It was quite a windy day, with intermittent rain showers. The wind kept blowing the ashes back onto the boat. We were laughing between our tears, and, when we finally managed to scatter the ashes successfully, we knew we'd done the right thing - we had closure. The boat was on its return journey when suddenly, Tricia's granddaughter, Megan, and my little granddaughter, Sophie, both screamed at the same time, pointing to the sky. A huge rainbow had just appeared. Of course, that was our way of knowing - they were truly back together!!

We all remain close friends, and remember Tricia as she was before the illness. I have one such picture of her on my desk. She was, and still is, my inspiration. Words from the Heart to say Goodbye, was written on the back of all this grief. Had Tricia been here with me now, (I wish!!) the verses would never have been written. I needed to explain - WHY THEY WERE!!

On the 18th November 2007 only three weeks into her retirement to Spain, and just weeks after publishing this book, our mum, Jennifer Ann Molloy passed away very suddenly and without any warning. Our mum was a very young looking, healthy, elegant 64 year old lady, so you can imagine the devastating shock and pain bestowed on our family at this time. Mum suffered from a DVT (Deep Vain Thrombosis).

Just days after mum passed away our family said our last goodbye to our loving mother, cherished wife and doting grandmother. We then went down to the beaches of the Mar Menor (in Murcia) to "toast mums life" in one of our favourite beach bars. When we arrived at the beach we were amazed to see the Mar Menor looking just like mum's book cover. Incredibly and only moments later a solitary Swan appeared and swam by us. The photograph in this book was taken that very same day.

It was very ironic but a great comfort to us all to use these very special words for mum at her own service.

We only hope that mum's words can help others find the inner strength, support and comfort they need to get through such a very painful, grieving time.

Excerpts