You always told the truth you knew
You never learnt to lie,
You always lived the life you knew
However hard you’d try.
The love you lived though, kept you safe
The love your Steve gave you,
Though the role you wore, could chafe,
He’d see you safely through.

The love you had was plain to all
For Dad, and for us too,
A Christian love, with none too small
Everyman, neighbour to you.
Anna though German, after the war,
John clever, but mentally weak,
An unmarried mother, kicked out of her home,
And a deaf mute, you taught to speak.

You tried your best throughout your time
To play the Dentist’s wife,
But always there within your mind,
Your lowly start in life.
For we came from poorer stock
Both our Dad and you,
But he adjusted with more ease,
Which you found hard to do.

We never knew you socialise,
Your home was your domain,
Where you could be the gracious host
Who welcomed all who came.
And you told us what to do,
And taught us to behave.
So we could be at home with all
A gracious gift you gave.

Your garden was your pride and joy
All nature was your friend,
Wild flowers and the birds you knew,
Which you would feed and tend.
Your garden and your greenhouse,
Your refuge and retreat,
Where you could fume or pot your plants,
Green-fingered on your seat.

Sunday was a special day,
When Dad would take us trips,
While Grandma Parr cooked Sunday roasts
Which remembered, wet my lips.
Yes, all those Sunday rides with you
So often watching birds,
To the Fleet or Gravel Pits,
With ‘whoa’ your favourite word

Your artist’s hands could paint or mould,
With portraits your great skill.
Or else with gentle love could hold,
When one was sad or ill.
You loved to paint, to sketch or draw
And artists were your friends.
You loved a gentler way of life
Abhorring modern trends.

An athlete in your younger years,
When hockey was your game,
And swimming ’til you hurt your foot,
Which left you somewhat lame.
But age was never kind to you
Your joints grew stiff and sore.
Arthritis bent your fingers round,
And made it hard to draw.

And I remember, Oh so well,
How brave you were that day;
Plunging in the river’s flood
That swept those boys away.
Two young lads the waters took;
You saw them in the tide,
Though corset bound, you saved one life,
The other, sadly, died

Yes you swam out, while others watched
Then, quietly, slipped away,
You took no praise for what you did,
For that was just your way.
Courage, you held deep inside,
And a sense of duty too,
For you knew what, was right or wrong
And what you had to do.

And I remember other times,
The funny things you’d do,
The way you mixed up simple words
And mixed our names up too.
But you could see the funny side,
And you would laugh with us,
While stoically you bore your pain,
And never made a fuss.

You knitted, sewed and cooked and brewed,
As all of us could tell.
You planted, pruned and ‘papered too,
With everything done well,
How sad to see, in later years,
Sat mostly, in your chair,
You, who’d done most anything,
Rely on your Steve’s care.

Which makes me think of something else,
We’d often overlook,
You loved to exercise your brain,
With puzzles or a book.

Yes, cryptic crosswords you would do,

You gave me my love of books
And taught me how to think