‘Surrounded by love’: Mum will be remembered for her laughter and resilience - Kevin Page

The dementia that has slowly been robbing her of who she is these last few years made it hard. She didn’t really know who I was but we shared a good few laughs, looked at some old photos, had a sing-along to some music.

Mum was in fine form. Belting out the lyrics – well, her version of the lyrics – at the top of her voice. Smile plastered right across her face. That’s the memory I will cling to.

Luckily it’s one of the many I will treasure.

Mum was 85 years old when she passed.

She grew up in London after World War II and was part of the generation that saw the end of rationing, the rebuilding 1950s, the Swinging Sixties and the economic uncertainties of the early 70s.

I distinctly remember my mum in red, flared trousers and the hairstyle of the day doing the vacuuming while singing along to Delta Dawn on the radio.

We enjoyed a good life growing up, she and Dad made sure of that but things got to a point – power cuts and various labour unrest – that she and Dad decided enough was enough in late 1974 and emigrated to New Zealand.

They both left behind family and friends to build a new life and the possibility of a brighter future on this side of the world.

And so it proved.

For 11 years we all lived on the West Coast where mum balanced bringing up two boys with part-time work at the local dairy in the small town where we lived and then at a cafe in Greymouth.

It’s fair to say she got to know everybody in both communities pretty quickly.

I will never forget hovering around the cafe in the winter of 1979 when the British rugby league team were in town on their New Zealand tour. I was hoping to get some autographs.

Mum said she’d ask after they’d had their lunch.

I distinctly recall her taking out three or four meals and very clearly telling these behemoths “Elbows off the table, sit up straight” before delivering the food.

They loved it and before the lunch break was over she had them hooked. And I got my autographs.

Mum was always laughing and smiling. She didn’t care for politics or any of the bad stuff going on in the world. She was enduringly positive. I think that’s what people liked about her.

In fact, I think the only thing she didn’t like was football.

Unfortunately, with a house full of males, football was often a common subject for discussion or viewing.

Funnily enough, Mum would suddenly decide the vacuuming needed doing right in front of the telly whenever we would sit down to watch a game. It became part of the fun of the occasion.

After 11 great years and many new friendships formed, Mum and Dad had the opportunity to buy a place in North Canterbury, near Rangiora.

They’d visited many times over the years and decided that was where they wanted to retire to.

The opportunity to purchase their small dream property – tucked away next to a bit of quiet farmland – came up 20 years earlier than expected but she and Dad were always up for a bit of adventure so they made the move.

Sadly, just six months after they’d left the Coast and before they’d really had a chance to build any new friendships, Dad died suddenly. He was just 46.

Mum could have pulled up the drawbridge and just faded away but she didn’t.

She stayed in the same house on her own and got involved with Girl Guides and Brownies and spent the next 40 years building more friendships and relationships with the same spirit which had endeared her to so many on the other side of the South Island.

Eventually she moved to a small lifestyle village and then, when dementia started to rear its ugly head, into residential care.

She was still laughing and smiling to the end.

I’m sure the news Mrs P and I got just days after she passed would have tickled her pink.

No1 Son and his wife welcomed a little boy, our latest grandchild, early on Sunday morning.

As they say, life goes on.

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