My Mother's Obituary

Janet Marion Keating was born on October 17th 1944 at 41 Mill Lane, Lower Early. The third and final child of Winifred (nee Weight, 1905-2000) and Gerald Keating (1909-2000). Born after her brother Alan and sister Margaret's bedtime, family legend has it that Margaret came down on the morning of her birthday (the 18th) to the news she had a baby sister - to which Margaret exclaimed indignantly "I don't want a sister, I want my birthday!" ...I gather she got over it eventually and, as the years passed, it became a running joke that Janet and Margaret would post each other birthday cards - remarkably often picking the same card for the other!

Four generations (Woodley, 1996):

L-R: Winifred Keating, Janet Speller, Heggie Speller, Erin Speller

Janet's school record was blighted by ill health, particularly at primary, but she was an intelligent girl who seemed to have kept up well. She was particularly adept with language - English, Latin, French and Music. Later she would often remark that she could wave her arms in many languages. It particularly offended her sensibilities that when, many years later, I attended the same secondary school she had gone to (The Holt School, Wokingham) the jumpers had the school's Latin motto embroidered incorrectly. Even at the end of her life she would shout at the TV is someone used bad grammar or said 'pee' instead of 'pence'. She could have gone on to do A levels but her parents were against it. She used to say if she could do a degree she would take Philosophy because it's so useless - I think that was why I was so drawn to making philosophy part of my degree path...

My mum had several varied jobs through her life - most notably at the Prudential (twice) which she worked hard to gain additional qualifications for. She was certainly a Ravenclaw - not hugely ambitious, but unafraid of hard work or learning new skills. When my parents bought a very primitive computer in the 80s (a Commodore +4) she even taught herself programming putting world flags to national anthems.

Janet married young but it did not work out - she retained the 'Mrs' and the name Speller for the remainder of her life, passing the name to me and my children, leading to no end of awkward questions. In 1998 she had the surreal experience of processing her ex-husband's life insurance claim.

In the early 70s she began a relationship with Owen F - who she met through her cousin Elaine. They bought a house together in Roslyn Road, Woodley and bought a Chocolate-Point Siamese cat named Guinness ('Guinny'). He was the 'planned child', I was rather less so when I came along in March 1978. I loathed my birthname but was always called Heggie for reasons no one has ever been able to recall; my mum even investigated for me the legalities of how to adopt the name officially (which I did in 1993).

Mum gave up work to raise me, because that is what you did in those days, but for a woman with such an active mind it was a strange and unusual torment. My mum read a great deal but was also skilled in DIY and homemaking skills such as rug-making and sewing curtains. In 1981 we moved to Tilehurst and in 1984 back to Woodley. This final house required a lot of work - my dad, who was lifelong in the building trade, would invariably get most of the credit but mum was out there mucking-in at all times. She was especially annoyed at anyone who assumed she just brought out tea and biscuits! In the mid '80s* her father had a stroke - between geographical proximity and the fact she was full time in the home - it fell to my mum to do a lot of care, increasing as her mother got frailer.

*I remember it as being six but that would make it immediately after we moved into

Colemansmoor Road... that doesn't seem right. So I feel like it must've been the year after... 

making it right after I got run over? So I'm settling for a less specific 'mid 80s'

My mum was very keen on travelling, far more so than my dad. Over the years we visited some amazing places: Bulgaria, Tunisia (full tour inc. the Colosseum at El Djem), America, India, Venezuela... Our last big trip - mum, myself, my two daughters - was a Nile cruise in Egypt for my 30th birthday. So glad my mum got to achieve that particular dream. She also got her long awaited trips to Rhodes and Jordan.

It was after our first trip to India that Guinny died, on March 21st 1990. It may seem an odd inclusion but that cat was a very important part of our family. My mum and dad would later revisit India three more times. Mum nearly ended up moving to Mumbai for work at one point and was devastated when it fell through.
People often see loved ones at the end and honestly I hoped she'd see Guinny... if she received any visitations she did not tell me.

I became a single teenage mum and she was present when Erin was born in January 1996; she babysat Erin when I had her sister Kathleen three years later. My parents were less than thrilled but forged good relationships with my daughters. My mother generously paid for my daughters' swimming lessons, music lessons, school trips etc. My parents enabled us to have holidays and put money aside for their university costs. Erin graduated from Winchester University in 2017, the same year I attained my degree from the Open University. Kathleen graduated from Swansea University in 2021 and is shortly to begin her teacher training. I hope we've made her proud.

My graduation (Brighton 2017): (l-r in background) mum's partner Neville Morrell, 

mum in blue, dad, Kathleen and Erin - so grateful to have had everyone there.

In 2000 my mum lost both her parents in quick succession which heralded a new era in her life. My mother and father parted ways and my mum bought a flat in Reading; she had played oboe in her youth and now took up piano-accordion and soprano sax -playing both in a band - and took retirement. My mum met her partner Neville in 2007 and thereafter divided her time between the Reading area and his home in West Sussex.

On Monday 16th April 2018 my mum suffered a severe stroke, unusually affecting both hemispheres of the brain. Fortunately by this time I was living in a house she and I shared ownership of and she had written up a power-of-attorney document. She was able to leave hospital on 21st June and I cared for her at that home until the end of her life; aided especially by my daughter Erin and my dad (who was conveniently right next door) without whose support we would not have managed.

Her decline began there and progressed in fits and starts. We believe she had at least three more big strokes but as the first such incident happened just a week after the first lockdown of 2020 began (and because the hospital did nothing at all for her first) we took the difficult decision to keep her home. She hated doctors, hospitals, people in general... she had a great deal of fear we would send her away. At that time I believe she'd have died of covid or the perceived abandonment as hospital visitors were not being allowed. It was tough, but we managed.
Following each event we got a little less of her back.
Before the end she had been completely immobile for well over a year, her quality of life was quite poor, and she was deeply unhappy. We were however blessed to make her last birthday - an art deco themed 80th - particularly special, and in January 2025 she asked to be taken out in her wheelchair for several walks. Not only was that unheard of for the time of year but she was more enthusiastic for outings than she had been in YEARS - we're fairly sure she did more walks this January than in the whole of 2024!

Mum in Guadalest, Spain (2006)

Janet Marion Speller passed away on Friday, 14th February 2025 at the age of 80.

She died peacefully at home, as was her express wish.

She is remembered by partner Neville, former partner Owen, daughter Heggie, granddaughters Erin and Kathleen, sister Margaret, brother Alan and sister-in-law Valerie, along with many nieces and nephews, their children and grandchildren.
She was preceded in death by (amongst others) her nephews Sean and Allister, nephew-in-law Jack, niece-in-law Penny, brother-in-law Dave, and several dear friends.

Mum's 80th; October 2024

My mother's final text to me (in 2018) was that Tremors would be on TV that night. The last DVD we attempted to watch together was The Desolation Of Smaug. Her go-to choice for a film was Hot Fuzz. Bizarrely she developed a liking for Cockneys Vs Zombies which she requested several times!

She watched Death In Paradise, Vera, New Tricks... she'd rather gone off Poirot by the end but still enjoyed a Joan Hickson Miss Marple.

My mum's taste in music included Queen, Abba, Aerosmith, Bon Jovi, and classical music.

She loved a Terry's Dark Chocolate Orange, hash browns (and just about anything potato), and, in her final years, almost entirely subsisted off crumpets (one with a red jam, the other with Rose's Lemon & Lime marmalade). 
Back in the day she enjoyed a Cinzano and Lemon or coffee with brandy. In recent times she had me buy all the coffee-flavoured milk in the corner shop.

She loathed 'peasants' which, apparently, was her verdict on most people. 😂

 

 

So Slow

Not to blow my own trumpet but I have a few smarts. My IQ has been certified at a respectable 137 and I'm a graduate. But I'll be the first to admit I've never been quick on the uptake.

Tonight my mum was watching 'The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb' on TV. I own it on DVD and heaven knows how many times I've seen it since it was made back in 1993...but it was only last year that I finally got what Hastings was on about when he was telling Poirot about Miss Lemon's late cat "the one she called Catherine-the-great because it liked to sleep in the fireplace". Yes, I am very ashamed of myself and embarrassed to admit it. In my defence I'm not exactly super familiar with fireplace grates.

Anyway, this blog is another thing that happened tonight.

I'd gone out for a bit of air, walking down to the closest Pokestop and Pokegym and I was listening to Ashestoangels (hereafter A2A) on my phone.

My cousin Allister died of Primary Brain Lymphoma in April 2016 and there are THREE A2A songs that get me in the feels about that - Ugly Club which made me do the ugly cry at a gig just days after I heard the diagnosis, then two tracks that I got stuck in a loop of playing in the week or so before he died: Bound And Broken, and Ghost In The Machine.

So Ghost In The Machine comes on which particularly makes me think of Allister's partner Michaela. I had huge empathy for her anyway but after the funeral I was lurking to offer the usual stock phrases of sympathy as is only right and proper when my daughter and I overheard her tell another mourner that her father had died of the exact same thing at just one year difference in age.

This reminded me that earlier today I saw Michaela post on Facebook - November 7th was Allister's birthday (at the time of typing it's past midnight).

I also get to thinking about how my mum phoned me to tell me the news.

When I first moved to Taunton in 1997 I got my first ever phone. I started at the neon UFO shaped thing plugged into the wall and realised that some day soon I would take the first of some damn difficult phone calls. As it happened the first was in October 2000, in a different house on a different number and on a different handset. That was when my grandad died. I didn't get a call about my grandma because I had phoned home at an inopportune moment. There must've been calls about more distant relatives, my auntie Kitty for whom my youngest is named, but they were older and expected. it makes a bit of a difference.

The first really difficult phone call wasn't until Oct 2014. My mum didn't sound herself on the phone, I barely recognised her voice. I was just thinking "this reminds me of when my grandad died" when she started crying and I realised...
Me: "OMG, who?"
Mum: "It's Sean"
Me: *LITERALLY DUMBFOUNDED*
Mum: "Your cousin?"
Yeah mum, I know who you meant but...he was 49. He died doing what he loved which was riding his motorbike. My only memory of his wedding back in 1987 was him and his bride sitting on his bike for photos outside the church.

In comparison we knew Allister was going, it was just a matter of waiting for the news. Around the beginning of April we (meaning my mum, my dad and I) stopped phoning each other. We didn't discuss it. We just didn't. Incidentally I tweeted a prediction on April 1st of the 21st. I've blogged about this before and I know it's super vague - the follow on about the odds changing re: the 25th is A2A related - being my next date to see them live. April 21st 2015 was when I saw A2A right after hearing Allister's diagnosis; April 25th 2016 was my next gig date to see them.

As the 21st got closer I started checking Facebook obsessively for any hint from Michaela. By the 21st I was an absolute wreck. At around 7pm I'd been sitting at my PC and had just got up to go to the loo. The phone rang, I misstepped, trod on a plastic tray and broke it. I swore comprehensively at the phone. I was fighting back tears when I picked up the receiver.

So tonight I was thinking about taking that call, the call about Sean, Kitty, my grandad...and I realised that not only am I never getting another call from my mum (as she is a stroke survivor living with me) but that I am now pretty the adult for my branch of the family who other people will call with the bad news (my dad doesn't have a whole lot of family and it's not exactly clear if anyone'd bother contacting him anyways).

For some reason this hit me pretty hard.

Worse still was the realisation that THIS SITUATION HAS ALREADY HAPPENED.

My mother's brother in law, my Uncle Dave, died on October 11th following a long illness from myelodysplastic syndrome (a rare blood cancer). Although, as it's now 2019 I actually received the message via Facebook rather than an actual call. I had to tell my mum, rather than the other way about.

Unusually for me I just went through it without clocking the reversal in roles. 

Tonight it hit me. Not only that it is me that is moving up the pecking-order of adulting around here but the shock that I'd just dealt with it when it came up without really clocking it. 

When Sean and Allister died I wanted death to hit my parents' generation next as might be considered the natural order of things. I'm the youngest of my generation but it's too close for comfort. Dave, on the other hand, was 80. And now we're in that phase, of losing that generation, I feel old. 

I am perfectly aware of my age, my 'kids' are in their 20s so I probably have a better awareness of where I stand than a lot of people in my age bracket. Indeed, another cousin has a kid who is just 5.5 years younger than me...and her kids are a preschooler and a newborn! By the time I'm a grandma, or certainly by the time my future grandkids are old enough to remember, it's unlikely there'll be any of the old-guard left standing. Time marches on and all that but it's the realisation that goes with it.

I didn't have any greatgrandparents alive when I was a kid - I doubt anyone of their generation was still around. My mum's parents had her late, she had me fairly late...I guess somewhere along the line I just assumed that by being a teen mum it'd go some way to redressing the balance. Tonight it struck me that it's really unlikely. My kids probably won't have kids for another decade...and in all honesty I think my generation, already depleted, will be the oldest by then.

Deaths of 2019

Gwendoline J, nee Beckett (94/95)

Last surviving aunt of my father - no biographical details.

Left the UK decades ago.

Serena Cheong (34)

Missed by her parents Solomon & Cecelia, sister Sharon, brother Michael, sister in law Kelly

and the Blockhead Sisterhood worldwide.

Michael Barter (82/83)*

No close kin.

* not only do I not know his date of birth but no one knows when he died. Whatever's on his certificate is a guestimate.

Dave Rowlands (80)

Missed by his widow Margaret; daughters Terrie, Dawn Paula and Shirley;

grandchildren David, Hannah. Luke, Matthew, Geraldine, Sabrina,

Hopey, Isaac, Jacob, Shirley, Elijah;

great-grandchildren Evelyn, Henry, Rafe, Max, Lazarus, Ezra, Delilah and Selena

Celebrating

I just caught a YouTube video that reminded me of a story I heard at work - told to me by a co-worker. One of the joys of retail is dealing with customers' strange expectations, this one struck me as strange at first but this video made me realise it's really not and needs to be acknowledged.

A lady came in looking for a very specific card. It was a major wedding anniversary but it was not to give to a couple, parents or a spouse (all available), it was for herself. She wanted to mark her anniversary when no one else would because she had been widowed some time before. Death did not negate her love, her marriage, her wanting to mark the milestone. We didn't have a card for that. 

And she should mark / celebrate the occasion imho. We all should mark / celebrate whatever milestones and anniversaries that are meaningful to us, positive and negative.

I don't think forgetting a wedding anniversary should be a catastrophic thing. Marriages are every day weddings are a one time deal...I know which I think is more important. Honouring your marriage EVERY DAY is more important than an annual thing the way I see it. If you don't want to mark your birthdays that's cool too (I have that line from the Twilight Saga running through my head about Bella, aged all of 18, not wanting to celebrate her ageing...just wait until you're pushing forty grumbles the old lady). It's all about CHOICE. Celebrate / don't celebrate. Mourn / don't mourn. Commemorate / don't commemorate. Choose how to honour your experiences and how to continue your life.

The YouTube video I mentioned was about an approaching first wedding anniversary after the death of a husband but it makes me think of other videos and comments I have seen - like ridiculing loss parents for marking their 'angelversaries' - the anniversary of the loss of their child. Excuse you, internet trolls, what is it to you if or how people mark that day? Do you honestly think anniversaries like that can or should be ignored or forgotten?! For me it has been 23 years but I still think of Jake every 27th July; which is not to say I don't think of him at other times. Nor do I make an EFFORT to remember, it just happens. If should an anniversary pass and I forget that's okay too but you can't force it. Time doesn't heal exactly, but it does change things.

On a different note: when I was dieting I marked EVERY milestone I could think of. Every half stone, every 5lb increment every 5% off my start weight. Multiplying the milestones makes the goal seem more attainable. Same, I think, with addicts taking it one day at a time. Each day is its own achievement. And my god, it you WANT to buy a 'Well Done' card or a helium balloon or a bunch of flowers to celebrate then just DO IT!!! For your parent, child, sibling, partner...or yourself.

I don't think we celebrate OURSELVES as much as we should. It's seen as prideful or selfish but you know what? A lot of us have low self esteem. A lot of us don't have families who celebrate us or our achievements. So yeah, celebrate yourself, love yourself.