My dear mum, Yvonne Francis Paula Fowler, died last Tuesday, March 16 2021, after 91 years of life and love – given and received.
She was born Jan 4 1930 in north-west London. Half-sister to Leslie & Jacqueline, and only daughter of Francis Lickert who doted on her. For 10 years she worked in the children’s book department of Harrod’s, London, where her dad was an auctioneer, until she married my dad, Peter George, in 1956. Over the next 11 years she gave birth to seven children, all at home: Catherine, Susan, Helen, Janet, Diana, me, Nicola. Somehow she kept us clean, fed, and watered to adulthood and along with my dad provided a comfortable home with everything we needed, including setting an example of selfless giving, faithfulness and integrity. Her greatest delight was being in the presence of her children.
My mum was the easiest person to be with; undemanding, gentle, kind and always hospitable. She welcomed our friends into our home with ease, whether a passing acquaintence, a friend going through a hard time, or entire volleyball squads (and fed them without giving it a thought). My best friend since my teens, David, told me this week, “She was always so kind to me”, as anyone and everyone who knew her would confirm. She had a simple, largely unexpressed (verbally) Christian faith, crediting my dad with keeping her going to church. Mum didn’t reveal much of her inner world, nor concern herself with that of others; perhaps for that reason she took people as she found them, unconditionally and without judgment. She was also good for a giggle. While very much a ‘proper’ English woman (pronounce your T’s Simon! that’s NOT how you hold a fork!), she could never take things too seriously, and always had a good chuckle when she or one of us would do something slightly inappropriate to an occasion. She had a hilarious little smirk and look in the eye when her children were caught doing something ‘naughty’.
When my younger sister and I hit our teens mum revealed (more likely, had a first opportunity in her life to express) her creative side; taking up upholstery initially and then sculpture and watercolor painting which she kept up for years, for as long as she could hold a paint brush. On reflection, she always made clothing and knitted – though it seemed to me at the time a practical rather than creative endeavor. And along with my dad she sang in our Catholic church choir for as long as I remember. She loved to sing; we’re quite a singing family! She also listened to BBC Radio 3 a lot; classical music which I found awful and nail-on-chalk-board as a kid. She was also a great cook. I don’t know how she kept up with the volume and variety to feed a family of nine people every day while walking a mile to and from the local shops sometimes twice a day!
Going from a protected home through the age of 26, and then to my dad’s sure and certain security, she found the time leading up to and following his death in 2009 incredibly difficult. Burying herself in crosswords or art, her engagement with the world faded rapidly. After selling the family home, a lovely old farmhouse in Apperley, Glos, she spent a fairly short spell in a wonderful assisted living facility a few minutes walk from Tewkesbury. But her cognitive decline became obvious fairly quickly.
And this is where frankly I feel more teary than I do about her passing; that she was so completely loved and cared for by my sister Diana, with the help of my other sisters, every single one of whom are Exhibit A of selfless, thoughtful, care. Di, living 50 miles south and closest than all the siblings, had already spent years schlepping up and down the M5 during my dad’s decline, and then bought a home that could accommodate mum, committing unquestioningly to her care to the end of her days. Alzheimer’s and vascular dementia eventually quieted my mom’s functional engagement, except to near the very end still that tiny recognizable smile. I can barely express or appreciate how much the stability, safety and consistent loving care of Di & Paul’s home meant to making mum’s decline as least traumatic and as ‘easy’ as possible. Bed-bound for the last ~3 years, and with the support of visiting carers, the Alzheimer’s Association, my other sisters, and endless re-runs of Singing in the Rain, Sound of Music and other classics my mom loved, she could not have been cared for any better.
Mum was the most easy-going person I’ve known. She loved and gave all she was able. And we all loved her very much. Thank you to all who loved her too. May she rest in peace. Lord, have mercy. Thanks be to God.
If you are so inclined, in her memory we’d like to encourage the charity Alzheimer’s Support: https://www.alzheimerswiltshire.org.uk/…/yvonne-fowler-56