This is the eulogy *************** Her coffee cup sits up side down in the drainer Her chair, empty, the half finished puzzle by its side. You see She was always there for us, as sure as a sunrise, lovely as a sunset. Grateful I think I can speak for the family when I say I am so grateful for each and every one of you for coming. You each represent different eras of our lives. Some blood relatives or by marriage, Some for me, Grant, or my Dad, Point But all for that wonderful woman, the most inoffensive person you could ever meet.   Emotions The sudden death of someone close brings on a mixture of emotions: Shock and Anger We didn’t deserve to lose her, she was so precious to us. Sadness and Regret Why has someone so special, so pivotal in our lives been taken from us! I know, I wish I’d hugged her just one last time when she went into hospital on that fateful day.   Growing Up She was born in Liverpool and grew up in an area called Wavertree. An area dominated by brick built terraced houses with high ceilings, sash windows and a back yard with an outside loo and a coal house. She met my dapper father, a policeman from Gateacre (!), on a bus trip, in the days of Dixon of Dock Green and Z Cars. What a catch! You see Gateacre and Wavertree are quite different. The best way to describe it is that in Gateacre you get out of the bath for a wee. Dutiful Wife My dad always loved his sleep, at least since his army days where he was part of the horizontal squad. He worked shifts most of his working life and mum would wake him, no mean feat, place his polished shoes next to his chair, warm the milk for his corn flakes, iron his shirt and then go back to bed until it was time to get me and Grant up for school.   Memories One of my earliest memories of us all is at our first house in Tor View Road. I recall us all singing to the Goons, Ying Tang song as a family on a new Solid State tape recorder, just for a laugh. We moved to Cumberland, where we traded the Ying Tang song for family hikes up mountains such as Helvellyn and Cat Bells. We had an idyllic up bringing in Caldbeck, where Mum would be amused by Grant’s tales of singing and sewing, when he came home from the village school. Part of the Scene We had moved to Dalston by our late teens and early twenties. Mum enjoyed her job in the local shop. Such is her likeability with people, they are in this room today, we’ve been out of Dalston for 36(!) years. Grant and I had a Mum & Dad that were seen as part of the scene, Mum was one of the gang and known as Mrs C and she thought nothing about stepping over sleeping bodies on the way to the kitchen on a Sunday morning after an evening of wholesome conversation and Special Brew. Many then, even some here in this room today, would be as likely to come and see my Mum & Dad as they would Grant and I. If we weren’t in, the kettle would still be on, the choccy biccies out. If you were there, you were the priority.   Never She never had a passport, never been abroad. Never had a driving licence, never learned to swim. Happy in the service of her family and home. She never forgot a birthday card. Her coffee was like treacle, she drank it nearly cold. If you asked her how old she was, She’d say the same age as my tongue and older than my teeth. She was no Nigella but made a wicked cheesecake and became known for those who appreciated her stuffing at Christmas. She loved doing crosswords and word searches, they served to keep her mind working, and made her a living breathing Thesaurus.   Pigs Foot If I’d come running in crying because I’d cut my finger or grazed my knee, there was no sympathy. Rather, slap on a bit of Germolene and… “it will be a pigs foot in the morning” Trains Together Mum and Dad enjoyed trips out to see steam trains and take photos. His photos became better and better until he bought himself a much better camera. Mum was quite happy with his hand me down, especially when her photos were better than his. He never lived that down. Humour She was perhaps known best for her quirky, sometimes wicked sense of humour, passed down from her mother. In turn, much to the despair of certain members of the family, to me also. She was once asked if she’d worn glasses all her life. Her reply was, “I don’t know, I’m not dead yet!” I can confirm she wore glasses up until… And she’d be amused that I’d been to Dundee and not seen a single crocodile. And my friend Tom got lost, should have got a Tom Tom Tom! Social Media There are so many of you, its brilliant and so overwhelming, this has really pulled at my heartstrings and I apologise for the relaxation of the stiff upper lip. We all love her. Its how others clearly felt about her that has been so special to all of us. I used social media to announce to my friends of my mum’s passing. Summing up what they said: “a wonderful genuine person” “was always welcoming” “so kind to me and many others” “was a lovely woman who was always smiling” And lastly “Oh Dave I am so sorry to read this! Thinking of you all at this sad time please give my love to Peter. She was always so welcoming, a lovely lady, take care all of you” Need I say more? She was my Mum She came into this world as Brenda Kneale on 16th September 1939 She left Brenda Cushing on the eve of her 82nd birthday, The world a better place for her visit. I am pleased and proud to say She was my mum And yours X