Home to Titchfield!

On Monday I went to see Dad in Fareham, with my Aunt. I had to take the death certificates from the Registrar in Portsmouth to him and the yellow form giving Queen Alexandra Hospital permission to release Mum's body, to the undertakers. Dad was still very emotional, as he picked us up from the train station, still coming to terms with the death of his wife!

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!

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