Bob and Rosemary's wedding day, 23 August 1952
A memorable week-end.
It would have been Rosemary and my 68th wedding anniversary. It is the first anniversary of my new life at Sunrise.
I had expected it to be with Rosemary; in a visit two years ago we were impressed by the Sunrise residential care home in Cyncoed but when we were ready there were no vacancies so we switched to the Bupa home, Heol Don, in Whitchurch, putting the flat up for sale.
After living happily in Penarth, Rosemary's home town, for over twenty years and with her sight failing, we decided we could not carry on there.
Although the Bupa home was excellent there were no double rooms so after two months we returned to Penarth.
We had only been back in Windsor Court a few weeks when Rosemary fell in the bathroom. The next day Robert and I took her to the Heath Hospital where she died ten days later.
That Christmas was my first without her in over 70 years - we met in 1946 while I was in the army.
Christmas 2018
It was the saddest time, but Robert, Karen and Owen welcomed me and I spent Christmas with them as we had done for some years.
Back home, after struggling to look after myself for some months, I decided it was time to go into Sunrise and I booked in advance, again putting the flat up for sale.
Brian and Therese, our Penarth neighbours, were magnificent, helping me organise my 'Turret suite' and moving almost all the furniture from the flat, lock stock and barrel, to match what had been our home in Penarth.
It was the right move at the right time. I was recovering from three weeks in hospital from a viral illness - the first time I had been ill for many years - and was in a poor state.
I had no idea then how my new home and new life would be so drastically changed within months by coronavirus.
It has been a time of anxiety and uncertainty for everyone, unlike any period of my life, even the worst days of the war.
But I have been kept safe and comfortable by the Sunrise carers and staff who, despite their own health and family concerns, have been unfailingly protective and reassuring.
Robert's socially distanced visit today
As I look forward to a visit today from Robert - only he will be allowed to meet me, with Karen and Owen having to wave from outside - I have been reflecting on my long life.
I could not have been more fortunate or privileged.
Ours has been a wonderful, happy family.
Young Bob with sister Dorothy (l), mother Gwen and brother Bert (r)
Born at the end of the 19th century in a world vastly different and more difficult even than today, she and her elder brother Walter somehow managed as teenagers to look after their mother and their siblings after their father died young.
After enduring many years of hardship, including the Great War - her three brothers returning safely from the trenches - they lived through the depressions of the 'twenties and 'thirties.
Bob's father Frank and mother Gwen, 1942
The loss of my father, aged 52, a year after we escaped to Cardiff from bomb battered London, was a cruel blow, but Mum's life was saved by sister Dorothy, who at 18 gave her care and a loving home and family for the next fifty years, supported by George, her marvellous husband.
Indomitably cheerful, Mum appreciated and returned that love.
The deaths of Rosemary, my father Frank and daughter Beverley, three years ago, were my saddest of times in what has been an undeservedly protected and happy lifetime.
As the oldest, at 93, with the youngest, Claudia, three, I cherish the memories of my brother Bert and sister Dorothy and am unbelievably fortunate in having Robert, Karen, Owen and our now large family - over twenty of us - and am proud of all of them.
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| Bob with his son, daughter in law, grandchildren and great grandchildren |
There is far more for me to be happy than sad about on this memorable week-end.
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