Olive Eva Joy Purcell (Nee Dennant) 7th June 1934 - 29th June 2019

I post this today, in memory of Mum. The anniversary of her funeral.  One day, we will put the final piece in place - my brothers and I - with partners.  An ashes ceremony.  perhaps later is going to be better, softer.

Olive Eva Joy Purcell (Nee Dennant) 7th June 1934 - 29th June 2019💝🌹

A Eulogy.

A few years ago, I bought a fridge magnet bearing the words: ‘The two most important things to give your children are roots; and wings’.

Mum, you and Dad didn’t have much by way of money or much ‘stuff’ to give us, but you gave us something much more valuable. You raised us to be considerate, honest, fair and kind, and you gave us strong roots: roots that provided life giving water and nourishment; that withstood storms, floods and droughts and from which we could bend without breaking; roots that enabled us to grow tall (ish – I did inherit ‘Ducks disease’ from you, and I could have done without the stupid thin feet, but at least my legs don’t ‘fray at the edges…’ 

You provided a strong trunk, encircling branches, shade giving leaves and a canopy, a place of safety while we learned about the world, whilst still allowing light to reach us.  And you filled our lives with love.

That love wasn’t demonstrative but simply delivered in every meal (you were a great cook), every game, every bedtime story or song shared. Your love was delivered with a practicality we all inherited, and tied with that most important commodity – TIME!

I remember, and even wrote about recently, the daily shopping trips, library or museum visits, the donkey rides or sand castle days on beaches. And I recall our walks together: those talking walks, around the local streets after dinner, sometimes as far as Barham Park then back up Bridgewater Road, feeling sad when some of the beautiful big houses were knocked down and turned into flats. We talked about everything (seldom about nothing) .As I entered my teens and beyond, we would venture to villages like Ruislip or even into London, to the River that you loved, or to the Mews around Kensington.

In short, Mum, you gave us a most wonderfully ordinary childhood, which actually made it quite extraordinary. For all you contributed to that, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts.  

My memories, too many to list, revolve around and feed into my appreciation and love of food and cooking, flowers and gardens, stories, poetry and music (more of which later when we gather to reminisce), but Sunday mornings will always hold a special place in my memories, (Ironing, or gardening and making a roast dinner whilst listening to Family Favourites). There will always be ‘a Song in my Heart’.  

Mum, you were always a strong-willed, spirited woman, and fiercely (and I mean FIERCELY) independent. This, quite often manifested itself in stubbornness – you could be as stubborn as the most stubborn thing that won the stubborn thing of the year award as often as … more often than a Williams sister wins Wimbledon.

And Mum, you always put practicality over emotion, an example that has doubtless helped us deal with many trials in our own lives, including these past few weeks.   These are traits that we (three) have inherited in varying degrees.

And we never had to ask what you really thought or meant.  Your thoughts were as clear on your face as words from your mouth.  No nonsense, down to earth, straight talking – we always got exactly what it said on the tin, Mum.   

When the time came for us to fledge the nest, to take a leap away from that place of safety, we could spread our wings with confidence because of the surety of the protective up-draught of your continued love and support, however far we ventured.  We may have flapped a little at first, faltered but we were always resilient, able to soar above adversity. We took our places in the world as balanced, well-mannered, competent adults.

And we all have some of that legacy with us today, some evidence of those values and standards, being continued to the next generations, to infinity… and beyond!

In later years, you built a protective shell around yourself - but your heart was still as tender, the flesh still as soft and yielding.

Mum, you always did it ‘your’ way.

*** 

I would like to end by paying tribute to your love of the River Thames.  A love that maybe came to you through your beloved Dad – and which I share to this day.  No trip to London can be complete for me without going to say hello.  I dabble with poetry, but I can’t better Wordsworth.  His words, if you are lucky enough to catch the right moment, are still almost true today. I know. I have sought and almost found that stillness., even in the past few weeks …

Composed ‘Upon Westminster Bridge, 1802 – William Wordsworth

Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear

The beauty of the morning: silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

*** 

Bless your mighty heart, Mum.

‘Our revels now are ended…

We are such stuff as dreams are made on

And our little life is rounded with a sleep                                     

From ‘The tempest by William Shakespeare.