We loved, we wed and lived happily ever after 💒

Astrid has asked me if I would put into the written word how I met Mom and our subsequent marriage which I shall endeavor to do to the best of my knowledge. Something I dread as it will bring back so many memories of what was and is no more, but I promised Astrid and a promise is a promise.

I probably saw Mom from afar a few weeks before I actually spoke to her at Black Notley Hospital where we both worked. Being the youngest in the administrative office, it was my  job to walk down to the hospital canteen and bring back a large jug of freshly brewed coffee.

One particular day walking back with coffee, a group of German girls finishing their shift passed by on their way to the nurses’ home. I said hello and they laughed and talked in German, and for a week or so this routine would continue. Mom was the friendly one and when she smiled I was smitten and when she talked I was bewitched as she had the gentlest voice and most perfect accented English. Mom and her friends always amazed me as they wore no make-up, were athletic, and had such class and style.

Nurses Home at Black Notley Hospital in 1960

The hospital had a large recreation centre for staff and every fourth Friday night, a dance was held. I escorted Barbara Jaeger, a German girl who was dating my friend, Brian, who had the flu and I would be her partner that evening. As usual the hall was jam packed when after a dance with Barbara, the Master of Ceremonies requested everyone leave the floor immediately and sit down no matter where. All seats were taken when my boss grabbed me to sit on his lap, (he was married with seven children I hasten to add) and I remember his wife giggling at the look on my face. Directly across the hall sat your mother and turning to Mrs. Wellington, I said if I married it would be to a girl like her. Mom was vision of loveliness and I was bewitched!

I wasn’t much of a dancer and it was with great relief when THE GAY GORDONS was announced, whereupon I quickly went and asked Mom if she would be my partner. I remember Mom was very shy but she agreed and boy what a dance that was.  I couldn’t waltz for toffee and had never done so in my life and THE GAY GORDONS became our favourite dance. Later, Mom would teach me to waltz but suffered in the process.

Unbeknownst to me, Barbara Jaeger told her friends she would break off her engagement with Brian and marry me. That night Ulrike “looked me over” and thought I had beautiful eyes and was far  too nice for Fraulein Jaeger. Later when I asked Mom for a date, she agreed.

The following evening we went to the Embassy cinema, but I know not what movie played other than we were in the 2/3rd seats! Mom asked me if I would like something to eat which I assumed to be chocolate. Never assume anything, and I was offered a carrot!

The next day I asked Mom if she would go on holiday with me to Wales and stay with Grannie Loughor for the August bank holiday weekend. To my delight she agreed. A quick note was mailed to Loughor and by return of post Gran affirmed she would be delighted. However, was the young lady a Catholic or English? Mom passed 100%.

The distance from Braintree to Loughor is 254 miles and today with motorways and the Severn Bridge, a drive of four and a half hours. However, sixty odd years ago it took six to seven hours on the Vespa passing through town after town and I remember Mom fell in love with the Cotswolds. The Vespa was heavily laden with a suitcase and panniers and at Chepstow we stopped at a little park for a sandwich and flask of coffee. Upon leaving, I managed to drive between two young Silver Birch trees with the Vespa well and truly stuck which took all our strength to get it free. We travelled through the night reaching Loughor early morning and going up Penna Bank, (an unpaved road) the Vespa’s front wheel hit a small rock and we were up ended into a bank of stinging nettles but otherwise fine.

A warm welcome received at Gwyder Place with breakfast and endless cups of tea before we unpacked and with a picnic prepared by Grannie Loughor, headed for Three Cliffs on the Gower. At the end of our journey the clutch burnt out on the Vespa!! There we were with a hamper, blankets, and Lord knows what having to trek across sand dunes to the ruined castle which we made our base.

We basked in sunshine with the castle to ourselves and the Atlantic below with enormous waves crashing down on the shore. A fantastic day, but with no Vespa, trekked back to the main road and queued in a long line for an eventual bus to Swansea where we waited an hour for the Llanelli bus and it was 10.00 p.m. before we returned to Gwyder Place.

The local garage collected the Vespa and it would be five days before it was road worthy. The second day Ulrike charmed the socks off the Loughor relations who adored her. The third day we headed to Maesteg on three different buses and were treated like visiting royalty at Alfred Street by Auntie Blod and family where we stayed two nights.

Vernon and Margaret drove us to Porthcawl that afternoon and Margaret, seven months pregnant, went on THE ROCKET at Coney Island with Ulrike, much to Auntie’s Blod’s displeasure. I refused to go as I do not care for heights! We took the bus to Porthcawl on the second day and was befriended by a Welsh Corgi on the Promenade whom Mom wanted to take back to Braintree on the train but thankfully was discouraged.

The third day we returned to Loughor visiting other relations as Gran was one of seven sisters and two brothers. On Saturday the Vespa was ready for the road and on Sunday we reluctantly headed back to Braintree after a fantastic week when Ulrike truly fell in love with Wales. Little did we know two years later we would return to start a new life there,

Six months before meeting Mom I had applied to the New Zealand Civil Service and was accepted to work for the Ministry of Agriculture and told to await my sailing date. A few days later, I asked Mom if we could pretend to become engaged to make the journey together and when we reached New Zealand we would still be friends. New Zealand had fascinated her father from what she had told me and after showing her all the brochures Mom thought about it and agreed.

However, the next night I took Mom to the Queen Anne’s Castle at Great Leighs, a pub dating back to medieval times, and I confessed the “proposal” made earlier was untrue, inasmuch I didn’t have the courage to ask her to marry me and proposed there and then and I think on bended knee. Tears from what I recall, but no immediate answer and her gin and tonic remained untouched! Mom wrote to Germany telling her parents all about me and love prevailed.

I knew Mom had gone to London to see HG (her old boyfriend from the Sports Club in Frankfurt) a week before, but I didn’t know he had proposed to her whom she turned down. HG blotted his copy book by sending Mutti & Vati a postcard from London and signing it, their future son-in-law, which outraged Vati which turned out favourably for me.

HG went on to become a highly successful lawyer. Eventually, we became friends and one summer when Mom and Peter were in Germany, HG and his sister, Christa, came to Wales and stayed with me for a week.

Ulrike’s family, so to speak, were the German girls who had divided opinions as to my suitability. Mom’s Tante Doreen, whom Ulrike saw from to time but not a close relationship, was married to a British soldier based in Colchester. I did not meet her until the wedding where I was to earn her life long enmity after deftly placing the wedding cake decoration atop her head whilst posing for a family photograph, and for which she never forgave me. Methought it gave the lady style and a very à la mode hat. For my sins I would be described hereafter to everyone as A VERY, VERY WICKED MAN. I digress and back to the engagement.

A definite improvement to the hat she wore which looked like a tea cosy!

Not a feather to fly with and of course an engagement ring to be bought, I found a heart shaped ring with the tiniest diamond. Mom loved it on sight and years later gave it to Astrid, together with her wedding band and eternity ring. Arthritis in her hands had made it impossible for Mom to wear. Astrid had it restored in the spring and it looks exquisite. 

We spent most of our free time at Mersea Island where we would decamp after I finished work (Mom had the early morning shift) and return late in the evening past the hospital curfew. I knew where the fence could be lifted up and Mom safely deposited on the other side.

It’s a long, long time from August to December (with apologies to the song writer) and Mom attended English lessons every Thursday evening at the Braintree college on Bradford Street. I was taking her there one Thursday evening and suggested I would be a better teacher and talking with my friends, Mom would have a much better appreciation and exposure the English language and she agreed. That evening we headed to Phyll and Bob’s farm house near Wethersfield to talk up a storm with endless cups of tea.

My father did not approve of Mom being German and his subsequent action advanced our wedding date to December. We never had a good relationship and when offered a teaching job at Saint Athan’s Air force in Wales, my parents and Annette left Braintree.

I received a phone call at the hospital one morning from Vati who was flying over shortly to meet with me and he was not happy. I was to meet him at the airport when he would call again. The moment Mom got off her shift I gave the news but she couldn’t understand as her father, as best she knew, only spoke French as a second language. I explained he spoke it well enough to leave me in no doubt how he felt! The day dragged on and I was on pins and needles when late afternoon a German porter inquired how was I preparing for Herr Sturm’s visit!! The penny dropped and he had called impersonating Vati but I was so relieved gave him a big hug.

I went to live with Betty and Dave after my parents left for Wales and Betty hosted a tea for my 20th birthday where Mom surprised and amazed me with a beautiful watch, and a forerunner of the years to come when Mom put our birthdays paramount. Mom visited Chapel Hill constantly and so began a firm friendship with Betty, and of course Dave, who became my family, not forgetting Sian who was born the year before my 20^th birthday. This lifelong friendship has lasted to this day although Dave is sadly gone. Betty is Astrid’s godmother.

The day before our wedding we had a rehearsal in the chapel which I barely remember other than ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS, which I had requested but was deemed inappropriate for a wedding and the Reverend Davies picked suitable hymns. At the Celebration of Mom’s Life, ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS would be played sixty one years and three months later!

Mutti and Vati arrived on Braintree on December 9^th, booked into the HORSE & GROOM HOTEL where with great trepidation I went to meet them for dinner. They were fabulous and whilst they spoke no English, and I no German, it was a wonderful evening I shall always treasure with two dear people who I grew to love very much.

Ulrike spent the night before the wedding with Mr & Mrs.Holloway, our first neighbours upon arrival in Braintree. Saturday morning I was passing through Braintree market when Mrs. Holloway appeared out of the blue hustling me into a shop doorway. Ulrike was leaving a hair dressing salon and no account could I see her.

Half an hour before the wedding, I raced to Black Notley Hospital to collect Helen, our friend from Trinidad, when the wind blew off her white fur hat and I remember cleaning it from puddle of clear water and the day was saved.

My best man was Vernon, a black GI I had met under peculiar circumstances in the spring. I had a date with Angie, a Jamaican nurse and waiting in the Nurses’ Home reception room I met Vernon who was also waiting for his date and we talked up a storm. Angie walked in, we both stood up and she had accidentally double dated! No problem as we went out as a threesome and had a great time at a TONGUES CHURCH with lots of chanting and praising the Lord followed by fish and chips. Vernon had missed the last bus to base, had no money for a taxi and so I lent him my brand new multi geared racing bike. We became firm friends and dumped Angie.

I vaguely remember our wedding service, but none of the hymns I favoured were deemed suitable. Mr. Holloway gave Mom away, inasmuch Vati spoke no English and was happy to delegate this task. Heidi from Berlin was Mom’s bridesmaid and Annette, my younger sister, the other.

The Reverend Thomas Herbert Davies in his sermon warned against about becoming lax in our standards and warned me about appearing at the breakfast table slovenly, unshaven and reading the newspaper. Mom should not present herself in an untidy manner and of course, no smoking. Oh well, we didn’t do badly and always dressed for each other in a tidy manner. I don’t recall sin or Sodom and Gomorrah being mentioned and we got off quite easily in that respect.

Our reception was in the Baptist Church Hall with sandwiches, cakes, and a wedding cake made by cousin Rita (Domestic Science Teacher at Braintree High School) but unskilled in decorating and made do with foil. Nonetheless, a rose by any other name is a rose and it was a fantastic fruit cake with marzipan and imperial icing paid for by Betty and Dave. Grape Kool-Aid was supplied from the base commissary and all done on a dime. A very untoward and poor reception by today’s standards, but regardless, we weathered many a storm where others may have faltered for all their grand affairs.

Wedding presents were frugal in those days and an electric iron would have been considered extravagant. One gift which raised eyebrows, being a pair of tea towels resembling underwear and the words printed WHEN IT COMES TO PULLING STITCHES DON’T BE AFRAID TO LOSE YOUR BRITCHES. Hmm, a few eyes were raised when it was read aloud!

No honeymoon as we had no money and after the reception the immediate family came back to the trailer where they were offered coffee. Auntie Liz was aghast and foretold without the blessed brew our union would never prosper. I hurriedly went to a neighbor and borrowed a packet of Typhoo tea and with a teapot (wedding present from Auntie Liz) the day was saved and our union prospered.

They said it would never last but here we are eight days later!

In 1988, we took our belated honeymoon with a Cunard cruise around the Caribbean and as Betty said, a honeymoon can always be delayed, albeit some forty eight years later.

We started our life as poor as church mice and looking back to December 10^th, 1960, just two innocents on the Highway of Life and in reality were nothing more than kids. Here we are approaching what would have been our 62nd anniversary and I miss Mom more than life itself with each passing day. Mom is, and always has been, the love of my life and without her my life is meaningless. However, as Queen Elizabeth said upon the death of Prince Philip, “with great love comes great grief," and to quote the old adage, “the piper must be paid”.

Thank you Ulrike for everything and without you nothing would have been possible, but you always were the wind beneath my wings and with you at my side nothing was impossible. You always believed in me when nobody else did we and really did dream the impossible dream, didn’t we my old love? God Bless and be happy and know you will be forever missed. xxx

The War, 1942

I believe these photographs were taken in 1942. The house in Carshalton, Surrey, my parents rented from a Jewish family who had fled to South Africa when the invasion of Britain seemed imminent. Look closely at the garage door where my parents tandem is visible. I think it is my father standing in the doorway. 

My mother had taken me to Wales to visit Grannie Garth only to find upon our return the front of the house had been damaged from a bomb blast, after which we escaped to the relatively safety of dear old Upper Boat.

August Bank Holiday 1960

I found these photographs which Mom had painstakingly pasted in a book. I would not remove them and photographed each one independently.

August Bank Holiday week 1960, we traveled overnight from Braintree to Wales. No small achievement in those days as there were no motorways.

We had only known each other two weeks before going on holiday to Wales. Mom fell in love with Wales and it
had a special place in her heart.

(The full story of this visit is here, in an earlier post.)

Chepstow before crossing over into Wales.

Grannie Loughor, Uncle Merth, and a neighbour. We had breakfast, unpacked, and headed to the Gower.

The castle at Three Cliffs Bay.

Care for a cuppa?

Rest Bay, Porthcawl

My cousin Margaret & Vernon, who drove us to Porthcawl with Auntie Blod.

There are always strong winds at Porthcawl.

Coney Island Fun Fair.

Margaret was seven months pregnant with Ruth.

James Bond, Look Out!

So much fun and so many memories with our 1960 Bond Three Wheeler Saloon. Fibre glass top, aluminium body, and an average of about 85 m.p.g. with a two stroke engine running on a mixture of petrol and oil. Flat out it could achieve 50 m.p.h. (with luck), but I think that could only have been with an undernourished midget behind the wheel; whilst going up steep hills we were often passed by racing bikes! One windscreen wiper which on occasion needed assistance. It had no heater or radio, and the side windows were sliding plastic. Weighing about 800lbs, two people could move it a short distance and which we did on several occasions.

 

I couldn't afford driving lessons, my father refused to give me any, and the Bond was the next best thing as I could drive it on my scooter license.

 A tiny engine mounted on the front wheel with a chain to the back wheels, but every so often the chain would loosen and miss a cog. Whereupon, Ulrike would promptly insert a broom stick to tighten the chain whilst I tightened the bolt with a bloody great spanner. Two people were required to perform this procedure.

We went to a posh Christmas dance given by the Rover Car Company in Cardiff. Driving into a parking space was fine, but there was no reverse gear for backing out and Ulrike had to push me in all her finery and stiletto heels! Otherwise, it could turn on a sixpence.

On one trip to the seaside, we packed in a friend visiting from Norway, Peter and his chum, Phillip, Ulrike, Lassie, and myself, plus some folding chairs and a picnic hamper. We pulled up alongside a Bentley and decamped much to the horror of an elderly couple lunching within and from the look on their faces must have thought, "There goes the neighbourhood!"

We had just moved into the bungalow when I had a puncture, but of course, no spare wheel. Undaunted, my neighbour removed the tyre from a contractor's industrial wheelbarrow. A swap was made and the replacement tyre was tickety boo!

 

Our Bond was second hand and three years old which cost £159, whilst today I saw the following at auction for £5,000 as they are now collectors items. If we only knew then what we know now in so many ways.

My Grandparents and Family

A family picture of the Thomas Family, whereas, the only family photograph we ever had taken was of my mother, Annette and myself at Clacton-on-Sea in 1952. Which is why I am forever snapping away as a family can never have too many photographs. Opportunities missed can never be recovered and those taken sustain memories for future generations yet to come.  

Uncle Tom was a protestant minister who after a twenty year engagement, married my Auntie Mary and prior to this they were staying in Upper Boat when my sister was born during a snow storm. The next morning, Auntie Mary took me to see my little sister, whereupon, instead I dashed outside to look for Mother Goose and her mighty fine gander, inasmuch, EVERYONE knew she brought the snow. I didn't know Uncle Tom too well as being a clergyman I always held him in awe and he told me I talked too much!!! Imagine that! He also suggested I go in for the church or politics!

Uncle Tom christened me at the Ebenezer Chapel in Garth, and I was to be named Alan. However, en route to the christening, my mother had a change of heart and I was christened Paul, although I never followed in his footsteps! By a twist of fate, my best friend for the last 71 years was to have been christened Paul, but at the last minute his mother decided upon Alan. The ever fickle finger of fate.

Auntie Blod was the backbone of the family, with a heart of gold and her house always had a pot of tea on the ready and a welcome second to none. So much happiness and memories from Alfred Street, and Eiluned and Margaret who taught me to ride a bike and indulged my madcap ways. Suppers of fried cold potatoes and cabbage, but Spam or corned beef with lots of pickled onions and lashings of piccalilli, followed by endless cups of tea whilst family history was discussed when a nod was as good as a wink when it came to a bit of scandal. I was closest to Eiluned and Margaret than to any of my cousins. Yesterday, and again today, I enjoyed a long telephone call with Margaret, who I hadn't spoken to since 1988, and together we travelled back through the passage of time to Maesteg in those wonderful days when there was so much less, but so much more.

Auntie Mag lived high above on Golden Terrace and she was a class act, full of fun and I remember a mischievous twinkle in her eye and sadly died far too young, but according to mother, she was quite a prankster. Auntie Mag had three children, William Samuel, Doreen and David. William Samuel and his wife Thelma visited us at Colesville and LaVale. Her grandson, Peter, came visit us in Colesville for a holiday, stayed in America, married Nancy, and now live in Ohio with their family.

Auntie Kate settled in Coventry and in those days, for a visit one might have as easily sailed to Ireland and no recollection of her until she came with Auntie Liz to stay with us in Colesville for a month. I could write a book about that visit, and boy was she wicked with a fantastic sense of humour! Auntie Kate had four sons, Cynwyd, Ronald, John and Gwyn. Cynwyd I hero worshipped as a kid when he came to Upper Boat in his RAF uniform and gave me his Boy Scout knife. Ronald and John I knew just a little, and I never met Gwyn, more is the pity. John came to Upper Boat on holiday and we caught frogs in the canal. He ended up with a big toad and myself a little frog which we put overnight in adjoining jam jars only for his toad to climb out and eat my frog. Of course, I held him responsible for the act of cannibalism which was never forgotten! During the war, Cynwyd was evacuated to Auntie Liz, and Ronald to Auntie Blod.

Auntie Liz is where we stayed when visiting Llangynwyd and a very direct, "lump it or leave it lady", but the salt of the earth, strict and who called a spade a spade but very caring. Auntie Liz came thrice to America; the second time for Uwe's christening. During her third American holiday with Auntie Kate, they insisted on having a cup of tea in Ocean City, Maryland, despite my misgivings. The good ladies spat it out in disgust calling it "pishoo crix" which is an acceptable Welsh term for "gnat's piss!"
Americans make excellent coffee, but the most awful tea one can imagine! Auntie Liz had two daughters, Joan and Megan, and they both visited us in Colesville with their families.

Uncle Will, the youngest son, moved to Leytonstone after serving in the British Army throughout Burma during the war. Rugged and a "Man's Man" who brooked no nonsense and with strong socialist values, but an uncle I greatly respected. Uncle Will had one daughter, Megan, who is a lot like her grandfather with a very droll sense of humour!

Grannie Garth, of whom I have no recollection, although I have vague memories of the house and falling downstairs. There were buffalo horns on the wall atop the stairs, which apparently frightened me. A deeply religious woman and the sabbath was indeed holy with food prepared on Saturday night to be cooked for Sunday dinner with pots, pans, etc, put in the sink and covered up for washing on Monday. Thou shall not work on the sabbath.

Grandpa Garth, a retired coal miner, died shortly after this picture was taken and how my mother worshipped him. A deacon in Ebeneezer Chapel, and lay preacher who had an ear for music which despite his lack of formal training could play the piano and compose music. He gave elocution lessons and maintained those who could speak Welsh spoke the best enunciated English. We could do with him today!! Grandpa Garth was a rascal with an inordinate sense of humour and brought home a monkey, but that is another story. He loved playing tricks and one night his butties were returning home over the mountain from their shift at the pit when he jumped out covered in a sheet, uttering fiendish shrieks and sending them fleeing in terror to the valley below. So many stories my mother told me of Grandpa Garth which would take too much time to recall and wish I had known him as he was quite a character.

Gwynneth, my lovely mother died far, far, far too young and was such a beautiful girl as the picture attests. She adored Peter and Astrid, and we were thrilled when they came on holiday to Virginia in the summer of 1970, but she died the following spring after they had booked their flight to come over that summer. To this day I miss her, and my fondest memories are from Upper Boat where I enjoyed a childhood in the mountains second to none with clear memories of popular songs from the 1940's which Mam always sang along with on the radio.

Auntie Muriel was a renegade and moved to Hartland after the war, and hence my connection and the family's love for Hartland. This lady took no prisoners and God help anyone who fell out of favour as she was a woman to be reckoned with, but after saying that we always received a fantastic welcome on our visits to the west country. Then again, she was my godmother although legend has it she declared herself for that role and nobody dared gainsay her! Upon Uncle Tommy's retirement, the local council proposed awarding him a watch for long and faithful service, whereupon, Auntie Muriel stood up and told the council to stick the watch up their respective nether regions (but not so diplomatically) and they wanted the money! Donald Trump would have loved her! Auntie Muriel had two sons, John and Michael, and her grandson spent a summer in LaVale with us.

These are my recollections and I have a hyraeth for Wales, which with Ulrike's passing is ever more so, but one would have to be Welsh to understand. Peter and Uwe missed out on that!

The Beginning

The Beginning...

Ulrike left Germany at eighteen, speaking almost no English and giving up the position of a legal secretary to work as a domestic at Black Notley Hospital in Braintree, Essex, to learn English; which still amazes me whenever I think about it. 

Nurses Home at Black Notley Hospital in 1960

The view from her room

Vati said she only had to pick up the phone and money would be cabled immediately to the hospital for her return to Germany. Ulrike said that made her more than ever determined that come what may she would stay the planned two years in Britain to get her certification in English, thence to France for two years, with another two in Italy when she could return to Germany to a highly paid position in the government or private industry. The only fly in the ointment was me, and I'll never to this day understand why she picked me as she had some very handsome, successful, and wealthy boyfriends in Frankfurt; one actually met her in London the week after we had met. 0h, the ever fickle finger of fate as she could have had a much, much easier life in old Germany, but so happy she picked me.

Sixty one years ago (August 31, 1960), we had only known each other two weeks, when we arrived in Loughor on an August Bank Holiday Monday from Braintree on my Vespa. Back then there were no motorways or Severn Bridge, and we traveled 252 miles through the night. I had a list of towns we would pass through; Dunmow, Bishops Stortford, Aylesbury, the Cotswolds, Cheltenham, Chepstow, Cardiff to Swansea and 'twas a totally different world back then.

       Unpacked the scooter, hugs and kisses from Grannie Loughor who hurriedly made sandwiches and after packing an apple tart and thermos of tea, we left for the Gower, only for the clutch to burn out upon arrival a few miles from the coast. Nonetheless, we had a wonderful day despite having to carry a heavy blanket and a hamper of food, towels, etc., and stayed on the beach until evening.

       The worst day of the year to break down and we queued forever to get on a bus with other holiday makers to Swansea, as in those days cars were a luxury and most people used public transportation. Queued again for the Loughor bus and it was dark when we returned to Gwyder Place where Uncle Idwal arranged for the local garage to pick up the Vespa, but it took almost a week to be repaired.

     Thus, we headed by bus to Maesteg (three buses as a matter of fact) to meet the family who adored Mom and she won their hearts. My cousin, seven months pregnant, insisted we visit Porthcawl where she proceeded to go with Mom on the roller coaster and other rides! The following day we returned again to Porthcawl by bus where Mom contemplated kidnapping a Corgi but that's another story! 

The Welsh Corgi adopted us for several hours

Thence back to Loughor where Mom met the Griffiths side of the family; bowled them all over and 'twas time to head back to Braintree.

     Mom noticed the difference between the English and the Welsh; inasmuch, the English were friendly but reserved, whereas, the Welsh loved to hug and kiss!! Four months later we were married and August, 1962, returned to live in Wales, leaving for America in August, 1969, but it all began early August, 1960, through the ever fickle finger of fate when we met for the very first time. Sometimes fairy tales really do happen.

Those Precious Hands 🙏

I originally wrote this for my Momma nine years ago in February 2013.

I have since added to it.

These hands held me as a baby.

These hands carried me when I was tired.

These hands comforted me when I cried.

These hands tucked me in bed.

These hands fed me when I wouldn't eat.

These hands held my hand when I walked.

These hands picked me up when I fell.

These hands helped me get dressed.

These hands scratched my back whenever I asked.

These hands spanked me when I needed it.

These hands helped me to swim.

These hands made my dolls clothes.

These hands knitted our treasured afghans.

These hands held all three of my babies.

These hands still make the German pancakes I love.

These hands still try to pinch my bottom.

These hands still hug me tight.

These hands, I love these hands.

I love you, Mom.

These hands are now in the hands of Jesus, who she loved so very much and was so looking forward to being with.

These hands are free of pain and deformity that she had to endure for so long.

These hands are now holding the hands of loved ones who have gone before her.

I believe these hands are now covering us with her love and prayers, waiting to hold us once again when it's our turn to join her.

I love you, I miss you, and will treasure my memories of you, my most precious Momma.

I wish I could hug you one more time.