On Sunday my relatives from Liverpool arrived in Portsmouth, to attend Mum's funeral. Aunty Margaret, 91 year old Aunty Mary and my Cousin Angela. This was the first time I had seen them, since 2012 at my Nan's funeral and it was lovely to see them again, after so long! It does seem, that the only time I really get to see extended family is on such upsetting occasions, but nevertheless it was important they attended, to see Mother on her final passage.

In the evening we chatted and reminisced about the 'old days,' talking about Nan and Grandad, long since gone and happier times, when our scouse relatives came to visit. Of course this may well be the last time I see my Aunts. Like all our family, I lead a busy life and have no idea what the future holds. Making the most of the time I had with my kin folk from the north was amazing and brought back so many memories of my childhood. This was a special Sunday evening, perfect before we said goodbye to Mum!

We got to my Fathers house early Monday morning, where my Brother and his wife had already arrived. The atmosphere was somber as one would expect, but Dad was holding up well, under the most difficult of situations. He seemed pleased to see his Liverpool family, who sat chatting about Mum. Aunty Mary presented Dad with two folders, detailing prayers said in church for her. These two Aunts are deeply spiritual and were both brought up Catholics, so it was comforting to know, that Mother had been in their thoughts and those of the Church.

Other family guests arrived over the next hour. My Cousins Chris and Maria, Mum's sisters and Brother and her two nephews, all mourning her passing and celebrating the life of a Lady, who will always remain in all out hearts.

The funeral cortege left Dads bungalow at 12pm, followed by the family in two limousines and others attending the funeral. As I sat there, looking out at my old stomping ground passing by, many pictures popped into my head - Time spent with Mum, Dad and my Brother, growing up in an idyllic part of the World. Playing in fields, long lazy summers, walking towards the woods at the end of our road and being cradled tightly, securely by Mum, at times of trouble. This was Mum's final journey, taking a route she had travelled many times before, but it was also the last trip I would take, following in her footsteps, in the place I used to call home.

We arrived slightly late for the funeral, after trying to navigate through a rather long traffic jam. The next funeral was already waiting to one side as we pulled up. It was strange that the other funeral was for the Mother of a young lady who I work with. As selfish as it may seem. I did feel comforted by that fact, knowing I wasn't the only one grieving a loved one that day. As I've discovered, it is always best to grieve as a group, comforting each other and helping one another through the difficult concept of death.

There were a lot of people at Mum's funeral, far more than we could have expected and that made the day even more poignant. Although Mum and Dad rarely had visitors in their latter years, due to Mum's ill health, there were still many who took the time to pay tribute to someone they had known. I was amazed to see the hairdresser who did Mum's hair before her Wedding, friends and neighbours from our time living in Thorni Avenue and to finally meet Dad's Best Man at their Wedding. All of these people, made Mum and Dad who they were and all of them cared enough to remember the life of someone who touched their heart.

Along with my Brother, Uncle Paul and John and Mum's nephews Lloyd and Kye, we carried the coffin into Portchester Crematorium, where a priest from Holy Trinity Church, where Mum and Dad got married, conducted a beautiful service of remembrance. My Uncle Paul read a Eulogy I wrote for Mum, unable to speak the words myself and Mothers favourite songs and hymn, Amazing Grace was played. It was a deeply emotional occasion for all of us who attended and and event I shall always remember.

Eulogy - Mary Elizabeth Light 1949-2019

As Mary’s Brother it is my honour to read a tribute to her, on behalf of her husband David and children Luke and Kevin. The following Eulogy include the thoughts and feelings of my sisters grieving family at this difficult time!

Mary was born on the 11th February 1949, to Poppy and John Frampton, in the small market town of Fareham. She was one of five siblings and leaves behind sisters Susan, Diane, Helen and Brother Paul! All of us will miss her deeply, a bond that can never be broken. A local girl at heart, she rarely travelled far; her priority in life very much centred around her family. As a small child she was diagnosed with type 1 Diabetes, an illness that would change her life forever, as she began the process of coming to terms with her condition.

In 1962 Mary met her then future husband David, whilst at school. David ‘thought he would like a date, with this lovely looking girl’ and a year later in 1963, they began a courtship that would see their eventual engagement in 1965. David would bring along his friends and gather in Poppy and John’s breakfast room, playing darts, chatting and getting to know one another. On one memorable occasion, David missed the dart board, piercing a water pipe, leaving damage in its wake, but that didn’t dampen their spirit and they eventually married at Holy Trinity Church in Fareham in 1967.

On the way to their honeymoon in St Ives, Mary and David travelled by coach. David had placed their case in the rack above, as they sat enjoying the journey ahead. When the time came to get off this old ‘bone shaker’ David jumped up and started to pull down the luggage. Losing his grip, he dropped in square on Mary’s head. Just the first of many bumps in the road and a time they still laughed about until recently. The beginning of their journey together and a lifetime of memories that flowed!

Mary worked at Suttons the Bookshop and Keast’s in Fareham, which sold Prams and baby equipment, finally training to become a hairdresser like David in the late 1960s. She followed a full time hairdressing career into the 1970s, when she finally gave up full time work to look after their first child Luke, who was born prematurely in 1971. Still working when she could, she relished her new role as a Mum and housewife. In 1975, David and Mary’s second child Kevin was born and their family was complete. Doting over her children, Mary would never waver in her devotion to her husband and sons, even during testing times; all the while dealing with the spectre of diabetes, that was never too far away.

Sat on a chair in the kitchen as Mum cut his hair, Luke was never one to sit still, fidgeting throughout and objecting to having to suffer the indignity of having his hair cut by Mum, Luke slipped further and further downwards, at which point, his Mother turned round, grabbed the kitchen bowl and placed it firmly on his head, threatening to give him a cut he’d remember if he didn’t sit still. It was the 1970s, a time of weird and wonderful hair, but even Luke sat up straight at the thought of a bowl cut, to go with his flared trousers and wide collared shirt!

Mary became a carer for David in 1998, when her husband suffered a brain hemorrhage. Her priorities as a wife and Mother had changed and turned full circle as David began a process of rehabilitation, aided by Mary and her belief in the man she married and the words ‘in sickness and health,’ ringing in her ears.

As a ‘protector’ Mary championed the needs of others, above her own. In the words of her son Kevin, she would have made a great ‘Health and Safety Officer;’ she always saw danger in everything. Over cautious, thinking of the worst case scenario, the bathroom door would remain unlocked, when anyone was having a bath – Just in case they fell asleep and slipped under the water. This ombudsman and campaigner of safeguarding always set her clocks ten minutes fast ‘just in case,’ a tradition carried on by her youngest son. There was always an emergency toilet roll to hand and she never trusted anyone with a key to the house. In her medical bag, an emergency kit-kat, packet of Mini Cheddars and neatly folded kitchen roll; prepared for every eventuality!

Mary was also a battler and grafter, working two jobs, at the Highlands Co-Op and as a cleaner at the local school for many years and of course caring for her growing family. This was a happy and productive time, until she retired in 2007. In 2008 Mary suffered the loss of her left leg, after years of injecting insulin took its toll. She remained determined to keep walking on her new prosthetic limb, right up until 2013, when she sadly lost her right leg and was confined to a wheel chair.

Despite all the heartache Mary was delighted at the birth of her grandchildren Meghan in 2010 and Hayley in 2013, two beautiful young girls who she adored and always gave her hope for the future. Mary may have been disabled, but she was now a proud Grandmother and always looked forward to seeing them when she could. Family were the linchpin of her life and without the love of her husband, Mum and Dad, brother and sisters, children and grandchildren, the difficulties she faced would have been so much harder to bear. This local lass from Fareham left an indelible footprint in the heart of all those who knew her and will be a great loss for everyone, especially her husband David, who cared for her during her final years of life.

In life we can’t always choose the battles we fight. Mary’s road was a hard one, but it made her stronger and more determined to beat the struggles she endured. With her customary smile and stoical outlook, she fought bravely, everyday and never faltered in her desire to grasp every second of life she had left! She will always remain in the hearts of those who knew her, a hero in every sense of the word!

The wake at Cam's Hall Estate concluded a fantastic send off for Mum. I was delighted that many family members attended, many of whom I haven't seen in years. It was great to listen to their stories about her and recall the more propitious circumstances that defined her life.

2019 has been a terrible year for losing loved ones and it is a time I would rather forget, but on the plus side, I have been able to see many friends and relatives I have missed, reconnecting with a family I was estranged from for over twenty five years. The wake, made me realise the significance of my ancestry and I am finally aware of just how important these people are.

Mum's passing is a milestone that can not be matched. I know we should have been closer, especially during the 'lost' years, but as time moves on and our lives continue on this journey called life, I am happy to have had the best, most loving, dedicated and strong minded Mother in the World - A World, that was all the better for having her in it!

'Christmas Thoughts' on Roaming Brit is asking for readers to write about their favourite Christmas present. Cast your mind back to your childhood and the first bicycle you were given, or maybe someone special came home to see you on Christmas Day or did you receive the gift you always wanted. Roaming Brit wants to hear about your recollections of a magical day, a gift you will always remember, something you always think about and a present that takes you back to an altogether better time.

You can send your entry to:

Email - [email protected]
Facebook - Luke Martin-Jones
Text - 07999663360

I look forward to hearing from you, this festive season!

It was fantastic to see an old friend last weekend, someone I haven't seen personally for over seventeen years and someone who was close to my family for a long time. Pat 'nearly' accepted a job working for me in 2002, at a business I was running in a small village on the Hampshire/Wiltshire border and we soon became close friends!

I introduced Pat to my Aunt and her family after a night out in Portsmouth and they all got on like a house on fire, laying the foundation for a long and fruitful association that would last the test of time.

Like most things in life, circumstances change and peoples lives head in very different directions, consequently My Aunt and Pat lost contact and followed very different roads until recently, when their lives crossed paths once again! Pat spent the weekend with us, rekindling a bond that should never have been broken. It was wonderful to see her after so long, we had so much to catch up on. Ultimately however, it was my Aunt who was happiest to see a lady who used to be an pivotal part of her life and I was delighted to see her so contented, after spending such a long time apart!

I have also lost touch with many people over the years, sometimes by choice and on occasion through accident. As I grow older, I am finding it more and more important to cherish friendships. I have many regrets about the loss of those I once held in high regard and in time, I may also rekindle relationships that fell by the wayside, when the time is right of course.

Today I have started the process of re-establishing broken connections, links to individuals I never expected to see again, but with the wonder of social media, old friends and colleagues, long lost family and school mates have all become a part of my life once more. We do live in an age, where we don't instantly lose contact with people, when we leave an educational establishment or place of work and the attachments we have formed stay with us much longer, than they would otherwise have done in the past; that makes me happy. It is crucial to stay contiguous, with like minded individuals. I find socialising stimulating and a beneficial aspect life. Interacting with people is essential for my well-being and I value their relevance; always listening, always debating and always expressing how I feel. There is good in everyone and we should never disregard friendships like disposable pieces of junk.

Pat is a reminder of all the people I have lost in life and she has been instrumental in changing the way I think. Together with the loss of my Mother, I believe it is important to now focus on rebuilding the links I have lost and forgive and forget the difficulties of the past; after all how else will any of us move on!

We had a very calming and tranquil morning today, spending time lazing by the pool. It felt good to finally relax and have some down time. We have travelled extensively over the last few weeks and I am personally feeling rather drained; a few hours in the beautiful tropical gardens of our hotel was just what the Doctor ordered. Just us, an old overweight white man and what looked like his young Cambodian partner, were gently whiling away the hours doing a spot of reading, checking emails and in my case writing, surrounded by amazing scenery, tall palm trees and lush green foliage! The sun was beating down and at 35 degrees, I could feel every bit of it; it reminded me of my days living in Australia; in many respects this was a place I was immediately drawn too!

Lotus Farm

In the afternoon, my Aunt and I had arranged a trip to a lotus farm and floating village at Tonle Sap, near Siem Reap. On our arrival, we were greeted by some of the inhabitants, who asked us to try some fruit from the Lotus flower. The subtle taste was unlike anything I had eaten before. The farm itself was situated in a vast area of flatlands, as far as the eye could see; small pyramids in a sea of green!

The terrain was wonderfully picturesque, rays of sunshine dancing off the pools that surrounded the village and a gentle breeze blowing through, rustling the tops of the lotus plants and agitating what looked like a waterwheel in the centre of the village. In every direction you could hear wind chimes tingling in the doorways of the small pyramid thatched homes where farmers and their families live. The air was clear; no pollution punctuating the air and the smell of other colourful flowers drifted across the landscape; inviting, directing us to a large meeting house at the heart of this small community.

After forty five minutes, we left for the next stage of our visit and a trip to one of the floating villages, Cambodia is famous for!

Floating Village

We arrived at a rather busy port on the lower Mekong Basin, where we would depart on the half hour journey to the middle of this freshwater lake. There were twenty or so boats of differing sizes, many of which looked tired and in a state of disrepair, They were packed with tourists and visitors, all heading in the same direction. Gingerly we walked along the pier, towards our boat, which looked older than any of the other vessels there.

I sat down on one of the old wooden seats and looked around. Above hung life jackets and other tools the tiny crew on this boat would need, all stacked above wooden beams and the tarpaulin roof, already blowing in the strengthening wind. Below our feet the deck boards were laid haphazardly, large gaps in the joints giving us a view of the water below. The structure of the boat was open to the elements and there were leather straps above our seats, so we could hold on as we made our way up the Mekong Delta.

The sound of a loud horn and a plume of rather concerning black smoke, signified our departure. The noise of this ancient boat was indescribable as it shuddered into life. Rocking from side to side, slowly edging us towards our eventual destination. As someone who usually gets sea sick, I was actually dreading this adventure, especially when I saw the state of the boat we would be travelling in, but in reality, I found the journey to the village quite soothing. At times we were passed by other larger vessels, which shook us violently from side to side, but it didn't seem to matter. Obviously I would have preferred a more luxurious craft, but my experience was made more memorable by the conditions we tolerated on our way!

The entrance to Tonle Sap was busy; there were boats carrying tourists and commercial baggage in every direction. As we picked up speed, we could see small villages on the banks of the river, markers directing ships away from the rocky edges and people fishing, with children playing alongside. This was a view alien to a Westerner like me and despite the poverty on display, it was strangely attractive and alluring, completely different to rivers back home.

Eventually we made our way out of the thin channel of water, rather like a road, that directed us to what seemed like open sea. I remember thinking to myself how vulnerable we were, bobbing up and down in the middle of no where and water as far as the eye could see. Looking around, confused, I couldn't see a thing, until we changed direction and headed over the horizon. A wooden marker loomed heavily, telling me we were there. Other small buildings, built on stilts gradually became more visible, until we arrived at the centre, where other vessels were moored; a hive of activity, where tourists mingled with the locals.

As we alighted the boat, I spied a child at the side of the craft next door. He had a large snake around his neck and was parading it up and down, like a trophy he had won. My Aunt, who has a real fear of these creatures was less than impressed, but this was just part of life here in the floating village and really not that unusual in Cambodia.

Neither my Aunt or I were aware of just what was beneath our feet, as we walked around the wooden structure. In order to survive, this river community farm fish and to our astonishment, crocodiles. In the centre of this landing platform  there was a large pit of writhing, hungry, flesh eating crocodiles, all waiting for their next meal. As one looked through the gaps between the boards on the floor, one could see other crocodiles walking about just a few meters below. I think my Aunt was more horrified than me. It wasn't really a place to hang around for long!

Finally we ended our tour of this floating village, with a prearranged dinner on the 'Queen Tara,' a large ship anchored away from the village itself, offering panoramic views of this amazing Cambodian wonder. A floating village, with a school, shops, post office and other local amenities, working in harmony with the environment in which it is situated; a truly magnificent site, looking out across this amazing structure, as the sun fell gently below the horizon.

The food on 'Queen Tara' was basic and typically Cambodian. We sat at a table with Robin and Molly, an Australian couple from Perth, where Darrell is from and two young Asian ladies from South Korea, who usually worked in The Philippines. We chatted for an hour, about our travels and our lives living in different parts of the World. By the time I had finished my third pint, it was time to leave and bid farewell to this unique waterside collective in the middle of what was described as the biggest fresh water lake in Asia. This would be one experience I would never forget!

....and it wasn't over yet....

The sky was dark, there was no light anywhere to be seen. The wind had increased substantially as we made our way back in the boat towards the port from where we came. Half way along our course, smoke started to bellow from the back of the craft. My heart sunk as I realised something was up.

Suddenly the smoke turned to fire, as the back of the ship glowed red. There was panic as the man at the back of the ship ran around the side of the boat, asking for help from the two other crew on board. By now I was also beginning to get scared and fear the worse; I really felt this was it.

Running back to the rear, he started to throw water on the fire, without success, shouting and screaming to his crew mates. I just put my head in my hands and prayed we would all survive. As I opened my left hand, another crew member also ran to the rear and began to stamp the fire out. The smell of thick acrid smoke was terrifying, but eventually the fire was extinguished and we limped home.

This was probably the most amazing experience of my lifetime and something I will never forget. The sights and sounds of the village in the middle of a lake will remain with me forever. The ups and downs of this trip made our journey all the better and as we approach the end of our journey I am grateful we survived to tell the tale!

A tribute and donation page has been opened for Mum by her undertakers. Please take a little time to click on the picture above and leave a message. You can also make a donation to Diabetes UK, a charity close to our family's heart. We all look forward to hearing from you.

Since Mothers death on 1 October 2019, we have received many cards, messages and emails from family and friends, wanting to express their sympathy at the death of Mum. Dad is finding these reflections particularly comforting at this time and we would like to thank you all for the contributions you have made.

My employers have also been understanding, approachable and reassuring, presenting me with flowers and cards from the team at Tesco. I have also received cards and gifts from colleagues, offering a shoulder to cry on and a friendly ear if needed. Personally I can't thank everyone enough for their kind words, it means a lot to me. Without all of you being there, my life would have been far harder. The fact that I do have so many people around me, is testimony to the nature of those I call friends.

If you would like to pay your respects and attend Mum's funeral, we would be delighted to see you. Both my Mother and Father came into contact with many people over their fifty two years together - School friends, work colleagues, friends and family and we would like to see as many of you attend, to celebrate my Mothers life as you can. In recent years, due to the nature of Mum's condition, they lost contact with many who were close. Reconnecting Mother, even in death with those who came into her life, would be a fitting tribute to a lady who died, well before she should!

We went straight to the Co-operative Funeral Directors in Fareham, to hand over the paperwork to Pam, who had been liaising with my Father. She explained a little about the process involved, as Mother's body is moved to the Chapel of Rest. We were asked if we wanted to see Mum while she was there and arrangements for the funeral on the 28th October were discussed. I am still in two minds, whether to visit Mum or not. After seeing Mother pass away, I don't want my memories tarnished and want to remember her the way I do now. I have a few weeks to make up my mind, so will think about it for now.

When we arrived at Dad's bungalow, it really didn't feel the same. Mum's bed was just inside the back door, where the dining room used to be. She was sat there watching morning television or the soaps in the evening, the table in front of her covered in the things she used on a daily basis. There was always a newspaper, the obligatory hairbrush, a mug of coffee or tea and the medication she took each day. Mum always had a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye, happy to see visitors who walked through the door!

Today this small room off the kitchen was empty, just a table and television in the corner. Mother's soul had left the fabric of the building and everything seemed stark and empty. Mum may well have been bed bound, but she had a big personality, always full of life and her mark was no longer there. I felt sad at the loss of Mum and the grief we are all feeling, but most of all I was upset that I would no longer see her face and hear her voice. Mum was really gone and all our lives have changed in the blink of an eye.

Sat in the lounge with Dad, we reminisced about the old days, as I looked through the sympathy cards on the mantle piece. We tried to look forward to the future, while laying the past to rest. A knock at the door and a neighbour popped round to offer their condolences, another card to add to the list. We will all go through this one day and watch our partner, husband or wife pass away, but it isn't until someone close dies, that you really understand the pain involved. Grieving is deeply personal, no one knows just how long it will take, but those closest make it easier as we adjust to life without the one we love.

Dad took us for lunch at Titchfield Mill, just across the road from where he lives. This beautiful wooden beamed building has many happy memories for him; a place he used to visit regularly as a child. From here we went to Titchfield Village and a trip down memory lane.

Dad and to a certain extent me, grew up in Titchfield. It is our family's village and used to be a big part of my childhood. Great Granny Light used to live just off the square and I would often visit her with Mum and Dad when I was a child. I do have very vivid memories from that time and I loved the idyllic surroundings that I revisited on Monday.

On Carnival days, as children, we would sit upstairs in Great Granny's bedroom, waving at the floats as they trundled past. Curled up by the warm fire on a cold October evening, we would run in and outside, waving our flags and watching the fireworks on display. I loved seeing Great Grans house again after so long; it really has changed out of all proportion, but it is still the house I remember from the 1970s, homely, comfortable and full of character in a village that hasn't changed that much.

With the rain pouring down, we then went to visit Great Aunty Peggies house, who lived just around the corner from Granny and who we continued to visit, long after Granny Light had died, right up until the early 1990s. Today it is a dental surgery, but essentially just how I remember it. Also the church when my Gran Gran got married and the old butchers shop where we used to buy our meat, really no different to it used to be and of course the three pubs that are still there in this tiny village, where I would sit and have a Coke or two with my Mum, Dad and Brother when I was a child. It's good to see some things haven't changed!

It was a great comfort for Dad and I spending an hour in Titchfield. This was a place that holds many memories for us. If I am honest I felt closer to Mum here than anywhere else, because she was always with us when we visited relations. When I was a child, as a family we always walked everywhere, even to the village from our home, then a few miles away. It is a sad irony that Mum lost both her legs in the end, because she always liked to walk, keep fit and have her independence. Unlike most peers of my age, my Father didn't have a car, only learning to drive later in life. As a consequence I felt a connection to places like Titchfield, that others may have missed, only driving through at speed, not even taking a second look.

Despite living in cities for most of my life since, I long to return to a simpler time, with Mum and Dad walking along the abandoned railway track, picking blackberries as I went, heading towards the village I have always called home. With Mum no longer with us, it is more important now than ever, to reconnect with the life that made me who I am. Mum's spirit will live on through the memories and recollections I write about, her legacy secure. I no longer feel separated from the place of my birth, I finally feel that connection again, the one I left behind, all those years ago!