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    Football, Family and New Horizons!

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    Well it's been a busy few weeks for me here in the UK. I have of course started my new job with a leading British supermarket in Portsmouth. I have just started my second week and am happy to report, everything is going well; I am enjoying a welcome return to working in Britain and all the benefits that go with it. We are particularly lucky in the UK to have fantastic workers rights and access to pensions, share schemes and a decent working wage. This is in complete contrast to my experience living in Spain. That is not to say employment law is particularly bad on the continent; there are pros and cons from both sides, but rather it has been easier for me to obtain a position in a leading UK company, which offers much better prospects for the future. I am still of working age and need to be able to forge a living that pays a decent wage. My experience in Spain would have been far more positive if I had achieved a much better income and standard of living.

    People of my age who move to foreign shores, rarely think about the consequences of their actions, when moving abroad. A mid life crisis usually dictates direction and most in my position return home rather quickly. I lived in Spain for three years and would like to return there at some stage, when I am able; when my parents are well enough and if I can obtain a more convivial appointment. For now I am more than happy to continue living and working in Britain, where I believe there are more opportunities for someone of my age.
    Football has also played a large role in most of our lives, for the last few weeks, especially mine. Working in a traditional sports pub, I have been watching the 'beautiful game,' along with everyone else. Despite my initial disinterest in the World Cup, I have been carried along with a sea of emotion. I have also shed a tear or two, watching England make a bid for glory.
    They have played remarkably well, exceeding all expectations, eventually reaching the semi finals, playing against Croatia. Sadly they lost this match, but won the hearts of a nation. A young inexperienced team has inspired all of us, as we watched from the sidelines. I will never be an avid follower of football, but I will always be a spectator during the more important fixtures in future. This was a time when everyone pulled together, put aside prejudices and enthusiastically supported out national team.
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    As well as holding down two jobs, I am also still volunteering for Cancer Research and also hoping to volunteer with a cat charity, as soon as a place becomes available. I have indeed reached a point in my life, where I need to give back some time to those who need it.
    I am enjoying my time at Cancer Research and the wonderful team who work there; dedicated individuals, beavering away day after day, doing a job I am very familiar with, after working for Oxfam for eight years. This popular shop in Commercial Road, Portsmouth, is always busy, lively and full of volunteers, rather different to other charity shops I have worked for in the past. All charities do things differently, but on balance Cancer Research have the right recipe needed for a successful enterprise, right in the heart of Portsmouth.
    On the rare occasions I have had a day off, I have spent time with family, something I am doing more and more of these days. I was able to meet up with my Cousin Emmy, after spending the afternoon in Portsmouth, window shopping and having lunch. In the evening we met Emmy's fiancee and spent a pleasant evening at Gunwharf Quays, having a few beers, evening meal and plenty of laughs.
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    The Burial At Oakland Cemetery!

    Events Family penelope-wren USA
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    In America, people usually have the funeral services within a week of their loved one passing. In England there is a much longer gap between the two events. I don’t know why, so if anyone can enlighten me, I would be very interested. In America, there is a regular embalming process.

    Lohr passed away on a Monday night in March 2010 and we held the funeral services and the burial on the Friday. (See ‘What He Left Behind’ for further details). That week was a very busy time; so busy that one didn’t have time to think too much and to grieve.
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    Tuesday morning, we were woken up early with a telephone call. The caller was asking if we would be willing to donate Lohr’s organs. This call deeply distressed my husband. If the organs were going to be donated, we had to be asked as soon as possible, but with Lohr’s death being such a shock, the call made my husband extremely angry. He had been up most of the night sobbing until he fell asleep exhausted. Then was woken up early by this call.We spent the first few days finding a plot to bury Lohr. My husband’s father was buried in Oakland Cemetery and he wanted his son to be buried near his dad. We were able to find a plot about eight yards away from his dad underneath a beautiful tree. Oakland Cemetery is the resting place of over 50,000 people of all walks of life and is historically significant in Minnesota.
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    I drove my husband to the cemetery on the Wednesday after his son died. My husband was in great emotional pain and distress. On the way, I felt Lohr’s presence very near. He was very concerned that his mother and father were in so much pain. I felt him whisper ‘Tell my dad that I love him’. I hesitated to tell my husband. I’m sure he would think I was nuts. But the feeling persisted. I let my husband know, but on recalling these events to him a couple of months ago, he did not absorbed the information at the time.

    We spent a lot of time at the mortuary. Sonny went to visit Lohr as often as he could that week before he was buried. The morticians did a great job of getting Lohr ready. He wore a white shirt and the white trousers that I had hemmed. The mortician had closed the eye that had been slightly open. He looked very peaceful. It seemed surreal that he had died.

    Each evening we came home to find food on our doorstep. One day we found this tiny vase with a single pink carnation in it. That meant so very much to me. I still have the vase and it fills me with great love every time I see it.
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    My son, who lived at home then, looked after himself for the days that we were busy. He got himself off to school and got his homework done. He didn’t have to cook as our church family had provided food everyday in abundance. He, at least, was eating it and my husband was eating a little. My daughter and grandson flew in from Connecticut for the funeral.

    All too soon, the day of the funeral arrived. Funerals to me are the hardest part of the whole grieving process because it is so public and I am a very private person especially with regards to my emotions.

    We had the funeral services at the funeral home. We had two rooms. We used one room for the viewing and we used the other room for the service. Initially it was going to be a closed casket service, but Sonny and Annette changed their minds on that decision during the week.

    My husband was speaking at his son’s funeral as well as Annette, Lohr’s mother. I was holding up well, supporting them, taking care of all the communications with everyone including the morticians, and the little details. I did okay until the movie with the music was put on.

    Some kind friend of Annette’s had produced a short movie of about four minutes or so. The movie showed photos of Lohr growing up and a two or three short videos of him.
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    When Lohr was little, my husband would sing John Lennon’s song, ‘Beautiful Boy’, to him when he went to sleep. The movie played John Lennon’s recording of this song throughout it’s duration.The movie was put on in the viewing room on a repeat cycle. I was pleased that it was put on later in the proceedings because I started to loose it a bit at that point. Music does that to me.

    We had a lot of guests come to the funeral. A few of Annette’s family came and most of Sonny’s family were there. Sonny’s work colleagues came from St. Paul. I was working in downtown Minneapolis at the time and was surprised when my team turned up. A lot of Lohr’s friends came to say goodbye.

    When the music went on, I had to leave being the hostess to our guests and walk out to compose myself in the foyer.

    My husband did really well when he spoke at Lohr’s funeral. Annette had a harder time but she got through it. It was an honourable service. As soon as Annette had finished her talk, she left with her therapist. She was very distraught.
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    As the service concluded, my husband said goodbye to the mourners. The morticians closed the casket and the took Lohr out to the car. We travelled from Plymouth to Oakland Cemetery, in St.Paul.  It was March and we were in Minnesota. The snow was deep on the ground. I had changed out of my dress shoes and into my boots. When we got to the cemetery, they had cleared the frozen snow from around the grave and the grounds leading up to the grave.
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    This for me was the most harrowing part of the proceedings. Watching my husband carrying the coffin of his son from the hearse to the graveside. My husband’s friend walked me to the graveside and stood with me whilst Sonny escorted his son. The tears began to race down my face (just as they are doing now as I write this). My tissue did nothing to stem them. My heart ached so much for my husband and for all that was happening at that moment.

    My husband is the most gutsy man that I know. As a holder of the Melchizedek Priesthood, he dedicated his son’s grave after some short words from the Bishop. Then the mourners left. My husband took a few minutes and then we went back to the car to attend a small meal put on by the ladies at the church for our immediate family.

    As I drove away, I saw them lowering the coffin into the ground in the rear mirror. It was all I could do to see through the haze of tears. My heart was fit to burst.

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  • Published on

    Coffee Morning!

    OXSCAM verruca-almond
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    I have been in the UK for a little over a month now and knew it wouldn’t be too long before I had that knock at the door. This morning, as I was getting ready for work, there was a loud banging on the glass window of the front porch. I recognised this hammering from old; it had a very familiar tone to it. As a rule I don’t usually open the door to strangers; I am a private person, who has had to deal with ‘toxic people’ in my life, so have always been very cautious; today, I was half asleep!

    Bleary eyed, I looked through the opaque glass that adorned the vestibule; I could make out a figure wearing what looked like a hoodie. Not thinking about the consequences, I opened the aperture, facing the person on the other side. Their head was bent low, although I could just make out a coil of ginger hair, protruding through the rather dishevelled hood; instantly, my heart sank; I knew exactly who this was; it was Verruca, Verruca Almond! Verruca slowly moved her head upwards; wearing a pair dark sun glasses, smelling of woodbines and rum, she smiled; a sarcastic menacing grin, that always sent shivers down my spine.

    “I knew you were back lovey; there’s not much you can keep from me these days!” Veronica retorted in her characteristic Bonnie Tyler, gravelly, smokers voice. I grimaced ever so slightly; not wanting to show Verruca my true feelings, I quickly produced a smile, bigger than a Cheshire cat. Extending my arms outwards I embraced Ms Almond momentarily; not for too long, she would have known there was something up. She had a confused look of cautiousness in her eyes; pursing her lips, nodding her head up and down, she knew I was pretending to be emotionally attached. “That’s enough lovey, you and I both know, we aren’t going to make babies anytime soon; cut the crap and invite me in!” she continued belligerently, awkwardly almost confrontational in reply.

    Knowing Verruca the way I do, I invited her inside; it would cause more trouble not too. Probably not the best move, judging on her past, but the safer option under the circumstances. I understood it was best to ‘play the game’ where V was concerned. She was a clever, master of manipulation, but after three years I knew just what to say, in order to calm any impending situation. I escorted Verruca into the kitchen, where I switched on the kettle.

    “Cup of Coffee V, just how you like it; dark, strong, a bit mysterious; no sugar sweet enough?” I asked knowingly!
    “You understand me too well boyo!” she laughed ‘I’ll be standing right here, no funny business…..If you have a nip of rum, I wouldn’t say no!’ she continued.
    “No rum, sorry V, just Vodka; not a big fan of Captain Morgan, as you well know, after that stint in hospital on New Years Eve 1988!” I replied.
    “No worries, a shot of voddie will do. Keep it to the side, don’t mix it with the coffee,” she explained. I knew there was something up; she liked her drink, but never straight, at nine o clock in the morning.

    Verruca finally removed the hood that was obscuring her face, unzipped the top and threw it on the back of the kitchen chair. Her face was dirty, eyes blood shot, hair matted. Not dissimilar to how she used to look, but this time her clothes were equally unkempt. There were holes and tears from the top to the bottom of her Laura Ashley dress. She had a chunky pair of stockings on, stained and riddled with holes. Her usual trademark patent leather shoes were scuffed and worn, the soles detached, broken straps, crooked heels! There was something missing, I couldn’t quite put my finger on what. Then after thinking for a minute I realised, her thick bottle top glasses were gone. She could barely see without them; there was indeed a problem!

    Despite Verruca’s many faults, she always took pride in her appearance. Whatever she wore, she wore it well; she always looked immaculate. Not wanting to seem shocked, I quickly averted my eyes, stirring her coffee directing her to the breakfast table. Jeremy Kyle was on the television. “Turn it off, we don’t need that rubbish on, it’s time for a chat!” Veronica demanded; I duly responded, switching off the box. Verruca had never liked Jeremy Kyle, calling him a bully. I had a feeling the show was just too close to home for V and she preferred to avoid the many issues raised; I could be wrong of course!

    “I need you to look after a package for me she said, something very important. I don’t want you to open it, just keep it safe, until I need it; you know the score right?” she asked!
    “The score V, what are you talking about?” I replied, confused, as to where this was all leading.
    “Do I really have to explain myself Lil man?” she shouted, “I’m on the run, after what happened in my office; the accidental death of a WPC. Oh I know you got that letter, so don’t try and deny it!” she whispered sternly in my ear. To be honest I couldn’t say a thing, so just sat there listening, to her tail of woe. Luckily for me, she had no idea I had phoned the Police, stupidly believing we were still ‘friends,’ which just goes to show how deluded this poor shadow of a woman had become.

    I listened for a good half an hour, Verruca managed to get through three quarters of a bottle of Vodka and six cups of coffee. I felt exhausted by the end, but finally agreed to take the thick manila envelope, hidden beneath her jacket, sealed tightly with duck tape, the words ‘DO NOT FKING OPEN, EVER,’ emblazoned across the front.

    “I’ve gotta go, things to do, but I will be in touch and remember DO NOT OPEN THE ENVELOPE!” Veronica snapped. ‘Don’t get up, I’ll go out the back way!’ she proclaimed. She stood tall, knocking her chair to the ground, fastened her coat, placing the hood over her face. Still sitting there, not saying a word, I watched as she climbed on top of the summer house and jumped over the wall; looking back momentarily, she smiled as she left!

    I remained at the table for a good hour or so, looking at the envelope, touching it, shaking it, prodding it with my fingers, wondering what was inside. The clock was ticking, it was time to go to work. I gathered up the package and placed it upstairs, hidden away from prying eyes. Tomorrow is another day, for now I would do as I was told, what happens after, I really don’t know!
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  • Published on

    Rab's World!

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    "Grandchildren fill places in your heart that you never knew was empty!"
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  • Published on

    Mum!

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    I made a final visit, to see my Mother at the Queen Alexandra Hospital in Portsmouth, on Thursday. Mum has now been discharged and is currently staying with my Brother at his home, until she goes to Southampton General Hospital for another extensive operation.

    Mum already has two below knee amputations, after suffering from the effects of long term diabetes. Her last leg was removed about five years ago. Even with the loss of her limbs, she still managed to walk using her prosthetic legs; quite an achievement for a pensioner. Sadly on Wednesday she was told, she would never walk again. One of the stumps, has become infected and is gradually going gangrenous. Everyone is concerned about the possibility of sepsis and this volatile situation needs to be monitored closely. There is very little the Hospital can do now, apart from removing Mothers whole leg, leaving her depressed and feeling rather down, as one would expect. This will take some time to organise; Mum will have to once again endure another waiting process!

    My parents are in the process of selling their home, which has become unmanageable. They will eventually move into a purpose build retirement village, with everything they need on site; shops, a gym, cinema and restaurants all for the residents of this revolution in 'old age living.'

    Returning to their usual residence would be too much for Mum and Dad at this time. The adaptations and adjustments they would have to make, whilst selling this property are just too prohibitive. Luckily my brother has a purpose built annex, suitable for both their needs; I'm sure they will be very happy there until Mum once again has to return to Hospital. Of course I wish them both well; for now I can take a step back until I am needed once again. Until then It's time for me to concentrate on my new life in the UK; after all I am going to be here for quite some time, until I am sure my Mum and Dad are well enough to continue on their journey together!
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  • Published on

    Rab's World!

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    "You know that little voice in the back of your mind that says "You shouldn't do that you will get in trouble!" yeah.....Well, I don't have that!"
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