Words from the Heart to say Goodbye

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