Month: November 2023

The family was overwhelmed by the very many people who came to say goodbye on Tuesday at John’s funeral. What a send off for the ol’ man. How amazed he’d have been to see so many cramming into the church and into our home to pay their respects. Wonderful. And grateful thanks to everyone who came.

Naturally, as time elapses, our grief changes shape. For me, I am like the sculpture by Albert Gyorgy – empty inside. Yes, I’ve got arms and legs that move and a head that semi-functions, but my soul has been sucked away. All hollow.

We all know that time will heal us and we must do the living while we can, so I’m basking in the love of the family who have gathered round close, and we hug each other tight. I’m doing what you’re supposed to do: go for a walk, do some meditation, go swimming, a spot of yoga, potter about and enjoy the grandchildren – in the hope that the hollow will fill up again bit by bit.

Meanwhile, I share again my tribute to my darling husband – because I loved him so.

Take care everyone. God bless.

Tribute to John

“How are you, John?” people would ask. “Fine,” he’d reply. And he was ‘fine’ until he wasn’t, which meant it was the end.

I don’t have all the words to describe John. He was my whole love and my world – even when we hit tough times. In all my life, I could never, ever imagine a life without him.

“It’s too soon,” I wailed to the kids, as we kept vigil at his bedside. They chuckled, even in such adversity. “Crikey, Mum!” they teased. “Over half a century together, and it’s too soon?”

Yes. Too soon. Too soon to say goodbye to this vibrant, unconventional, argumentative but sensitive man; the would-be millionaire, the man with large ideas and full-on drive; the man who lit up our lives every day with his quick wit and cranky ideas – even in his blackest hours.

Too soon to say farewell to the stoic; the creative; the problem-solver; the best friend, husband and lover.

Cheeky, he teased us. Often opinionated but charming, bright and intelligent, he had plans for everything and mostly had a bash at it all. Whatever the problem, John could solve it. “I can do that,” he’d say, and he did, right up to the very end.

Au revoir my dear, darling husband, who kept me on my toes all our married life by introducing me to everyone as his first wife.

May you go well now. God bless you, sweetheart. We’ll meet again.

The week is slowly going by. We have walked through treacle but are beginning to see that the preparations we are making for John’s funeral are coming together. We are keen to honour him to the full and share all the memories we can.

For some of us in the family, looking at the photos has been harrowing as we realise our loss. For me, I have enjoyed looking at them, remembering my love.

The children – Paul, Michael and Andrew – have been absolute stars. They have been round most days, supporting each other and me – for which I shall be forever grateful.

Meanwhile, the staff at Deeley’s have been incredibly supportive with all the funeral arrangements and have sent us the link for any donations we, our friends and family might want to make: www.jdeeleyandson.co.uk/funeralsanddonations/

This link will allow us to donate to the following charities, which were all dear to John’s heart:

• Leukaemia Care – a charity researching and supporting all those with blood cancers such as the one John was originally diagnosed with.
• Anthony Nolan – a charity working hard to match those with blood cancers and those who can offer stem cells for a transplant.
• Prostate Cancer UK – funding research that will stop men dying from prostate cancer.
• Something to look forward to – a charity supporting anyone who has cancer, offering breaks, or meals out, or other free ‘gifts’ to help their well-being. A charity that offered us a week in Devon at a time just when we needed it

The church members have also been massively supportive, too – especially Moira, who is taking the service. She has the patience of a saint and on Sunday sat, unperturbed, as we battled and bickered our way through the decisions for the service – only to change our minds a few days later!

Anyway, the link for the service that will be streamed, and which should be available for weeks after the service, so anyone should be able to access it at any time, is as follows: https://youtube.com/live/FNkXq8ZbBQg

Take care everyone. God bless.

We have been busy in the days since John passed away on Wednesday 8 November, thinking about his wonderful character and how best to commemorate him. Obviously, we have cried a lot and, in almost equal measure, laughed at the memory of some of his antics. We have marvelled at his achievements over the years and basked in his everlasting love.

We will say our goodbyes to John on Tuesday 21 November at 11.45 a.m. at St Peter’s Church, Holly Lane, Balsall Common, CV7 7EA.

We, the immediate family, will make our way to Canley Crematorium for the committal after the service and then return home for John’s Wake, at which we hope to see everyone who loved him, or was fond of him.

After the church service, we’ll meet up at our house for drinks and a bite to eat, to mourn John’s passing, but also to celebrate, with love and laughter, the life of such an amazing man and share lots of memories amongst us.

May God bless him and keep him in his arms for evermore.

There has been a marvelling at John’s staying power. The nursing staff who have been looking after him since Sunday told us that he was infamous amongst them.

Nurses who came to visit would shake their heads, trying to prepare us for the inevitable, and whisper with a sympathetic bow of the head or squeeze of our hands, “It’ll be soon.” or “I think it might be tonight.” or “I’ll be surprised if he’s here in the morning.”

And yet John made it through the nights and was here in the mornings, despite their predictions.

All the while, though, he was weakening – and this evening he let go at last.

We were all here at home, having each of us cared for him since he took to his bed. The two older boys had been home to see their families and brought back all their children’s love. That was enough, we think, for him to acknowledge that it was time.

John set off on his final journey just before seven this evening and we gathered round his bed to say our goodbyes, hardly believing that he was gone. Many tears have been shed; many memories shared; and all our love for John poured out.

We love you, John Sleath. God bless. Safe journey.

We were trundling along quite nicely when, unexpectedly, the ol’ man took a turn for the worse on Sunday.

Suffice to say we are now keeping bedside vigil, with MacMillan Nurses, District Nurses and Doctors turning up at various hours to administer various medications to make John comfortable.

He is settled into a hospital bed in the lounge, unconscious and heavily sedated; but nevertheless, he comes up trumps every so often as we talk about a topic he’s interested in, and he raises an eyebrow.

We watch and wait with love. We know the situation will not improve and ask you to wait, with love, with us.

Anything you’d like John to know, prayers or thoughts? We’ll make sure he hears them. They’ll be gratefully received, as the love of our lives moves to pastures new.

May God bless us all.

We are definitely having a series of ‘fat’ days. Days in which there’s a lot going on and not a lot of wriggle room.

Today was just such another day. It started early with John in a kerfuffle with his catheter and a bit of a clear-up operation. Then John decided he’d do a ‘tour of inspection’ on his house. This was unexpected. We had just had a bit of an altercation about whether or not the oxygen bottles and machine were really pumping out oxygen or something else? “I’m not putting the canular on,” he said. Okey-dokey. A little while without won’t hurt. “And I’m going to get dressed.” Smashing. “I’ll just go and get your clothes,” I promised, and ran upstairs to collect them. A few minutes later, I heard the stair lift on the go. Crikey, he was coming up under his own steam.

All fine and dandy so far. John inspected all the bedrooms to check they were shipshape. He got dressed and went into the bathroom to clean his teeth, whereupon I started to realise that the effects of the oxygen had now worn off and exertion was getting a bit more difficult.

He sat with a plump onto the bed and there he stayed…… unable to get himself back up to standing and walking to the stair lift. The walker was too high for him on which to get any purchase. The bed was too low. “Can you lift me?” John wondered. Ha! I did my best.

“Hang on,” I said, “Stay there, I think I’ve got something that might do for you lean on.” One of Mum’s little bedroom chairs was sitting invitingly on the landing. I brought it back and sure, enough, it was just right.

Ah… but just a minute! It didn’t get John near enough for him to transfer to his four-wheeled walker. Right…. I ran up into the loft to fish out the other chair (they had come as a pair) and that did the trick. So by a bit of a hotch-potch, we got John back to the stairlift, down the stairs, into his wheelchair and then the armchair. Success!

And John was persuaded to put his oxygen back on.

Then we waited in for the fire service to turn up. They are apparently going to do a ‘safe and well’ assessment of our home now that we have oxygen on hand 24/7.

Suffice to say, we waited in vain and then I took a phone call to say, ‘Sorry, but we’re cancelling today’s visit. How about next Saturday?’ Fine, I said, but thought it a bit mad that two weeks would elapse before doing the check. Hey-ho. No naked flames, please…..

We pretty much galloped through the rest of the day with visitors. I was grateful that Paul came to keep John company while I went for a massage. That was lovely and relaxing, which I sorely needed.

Moira, one of our Lay Readers, came just after lunch and we had a home communion which was good – although a bit rushed, because Paul had taken a phone call to say that the Community Respiratory Nurse, Karen, was coming out to visit.

Moira left and Karen arrived. While Karen was visiting, the bed people arrived to add an extension to John’s bed. Catherine and Lily then arrived to visit John just as the bed people left. Karen left, and David, Gloria and Darrel arrived. Another bed man arrived with the spare part they’d forgotten earlier. Oooh, it were like Piccadilly Circus!

David made himself useful and mended a couple of radiators – thank you very much. Gloria brought cake. Everyone brought hugs. But by five o’clock, John was ready for a nap, so we said our goodbyes and John slept.

John woke up about 8.00 and we watched a bit of TV before we welcomed Andrew home after his trip to Berlin. Of course, we wanted to hear all about it – which we did, intermingled with John’s left-field commentary, which was fuelled either by lack of oxygen or morphine, making us laugh. I turned his oxygen levels up a bit to see if that would help. It did a bit.

Andrew is on night watch.

Take care everyone. God bless.

Today has been what I call a fat day. It’s felt like it’s been bursting at the seams.

Naturally, I am concerned about John’s welfare, so the first job of the day was to phone the MacMillan team to see if they could call in and discuss John’s medication. Pain relief overnight hasn’t quite been cutting it.

Second job of the day was to phone the MacMillan team at the hospital to see if they could sort side bars for John’s bed, and a little table. It transpires that neither were ordered so a separate order must be made. I mean, it’d be just like John to thrash about and tumble out of bed, wouldn’t it? Ha! Monday is when they are promising to get something delivered….hmmm. Meanwhile, there are cushions and blankets a-plenty on one side of the bed and a table blocking the fall the other.

Luckily, Andrew was at home today. Michael, too, suggested that he and the family call in. And Paul texted to say that he would drop by late morning. All in all, it turned out very well in that all the relevant people were with John and me as we talked about the nitty-gritty of John’s situation with Andrea, the MacMillan Nurse.

John himself was confused. I knew it wasn’t the morphine talking so we administered the oxygen that we now have to hand. He perked up a bit but not quite as well as I would have liked. We’ll see how he is tomorrow.

But it all comes home and lands with a massive thud when the discussion turns to the question of where John would like to spend his last days? Would he like to go back into hospital if need be? How would he like to be cared for? And would we like some help at home? John may qualify for ‘fast track’ CHC funding for such help. Would we like Andrea to investigate this?

The answer to the last question was ‘yes, please’, with the shocking realisation that an application is completed when someone probably has ‘less than three months to live’.

We didn’t like to hear it. We were upset. However, I was comforted by the fact that we were all together, sharing our love for John, despite the circumstances.

Me being me, I am pretty good at displacement activity. I wasn’t keen to dwell on what we’d just been told so, mindful of the time limit on us and the fact that the boys were with us, I decided to make the Christmas Cake. “Everyone has to have a stir and make a wish,” I declared, all the while knowing that our greatest wish could not possibly granted.

Nevertheless, I set to and started mixing up the ingredients. “Thomas would like to help you, Grandma,” said Michael, as he came into the kitchen. “Jolly good,” I replied, putting Thomas immediately on mixing duty. We did well between us, and then offered the mixing to everyone else. “Take the bowl through to Grandpa,” I said to William, as he finished his turn, “and tell him to give it a stir.” Grandpa had the final stir – his cake-making days not yet over. Just got to decorate it now!!

Danielle was busy in the kitchen, too. She had the bright idea of batch-cooking a chilli con carne for us, so she gathered all the ingredients together and set it on to simmer while I made the cake. We were very busy bees!!

Michael and I went out for a breath of fresh air late on in the afternoon, after we’d waved goodbye to Andrew who was jetting off to Berlin. He had been offered the opportunity to eat at one of the Michelin-starred restaurants there, all expenses paid, so he couldn’t say ‘no’.

Meanwhile, Michael, Thomas and I wandered through one of my favourite places, Katharine’s Wood, and then onto the play park, where Thomas was disappointed to find that all the equipment was wet and not for playing on today.

The fresh air and the chat with Michael did me good and I felt somewhat refreshed when I got home. Paul, meanwhile, sorted out our landline telephone which had been doing very silly things; and then he shot up to the pharmacy for an addition to John’s prescription to see if another pill will help the pain management overnight. Fingers crossed.

I’d like to say we sat quietly and contentedly this evening but John put the Man U vs Newcastle match on the TV……… he dozed most of the way through but said ‘yes he was watching it’ every time I suggested changing channel…… ouch.

And that was us today.

Take care everyone. God bless.

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