I wasn’t going to mention this on here, but then blogging collided a little with “real” life, so I changed my mind.
The other day, I got home from a trip north to Cheshire. It was a bittersweet experience. My very dear aunt Dot died suddenly, and it was with a heavy heart that the Twisted Seniors and I made the long journey north to attend her funeral. Dot was Father Twisted’s little sister, and underneath a certain amount of teasing and banter, their mutual affection ran deep, though neither of them would have admitted it.
Nobody was surprised that the service and the wake were packed out, because Dot’s warmth and humour made an impression on everyone she met. She was unfailingly kind-hearted and optimistic and generous. When I mentioned her death to friends and neighbours in our village, many of them reminded me that they met her when she came to stay and that she was lovely. Even the twinnage – whose shyness makes them wary of speaking to pretty much anyone – loved Dot for her playfulness. I felt bad for not taking them to the funeral, but they’ve missed so much school already.
Will you indulge me if I share a few memories, please? I remember first spending time with her and realizing that she was awesome at roughly the age of nine, on the day when this photo of me and my cousins was taken. (Sadly I don’t have a picture of Dot from that day.)
But it was in my late teens that she and I grew properly close. I thought she was cool and interesting. And I spent happy weeks staying with her “oop north”, where we shared our love of mountains, wildlife, literature, and all sorts of Indian food. I even lived with her for a year or so in my early twenties.
Yet Dot’s life wasn’t easy. In early adulthood, she developed the severe obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) that would blight the rest of her days. Let’s just say that the ‘treatment’ – I use that word loosely – that she received back in the day would not in any way be considered acceptable now. On a lighter note, she told me about her time as an inpatient at the famous Bethlem psychiatric hospital in London (origin of the word ‘bedlam’), and how she and a couple of other patients would sneak out in the evening to go and watch a nearby colony of badgers. For this, I admired her: here was a woman who had her priorities right! Dot and I talked OCD for hours and hours and hours and hours. And hours. It’s because of her that I decided to become a clinical psychologist – I wanted to provide something kinder, more collaborative, and more effective than the awful “treatment” she’d endured.
So at the end of last week I went to the funeral, and read a verse (Christina Rossetti’s ‘Remember’). It was good to see family, especially my three cousins. The eulogies – from Father Twisted, and Dot’s first husband, and her current partner – were deeply moving. The saddest thing was thinking at the wake about how much she would have enjoyed the occasion, if only she could have been there.
The thing that prompted me to post all this here was that at the wake, a number of kind people came up, introduced themselves, and mentioned that Dot had led them to this blog and told them all about the twinnage. I had no idea. It’s typical of her generosity of spirit, though, that she spoke kindly to so many people about these ramblings of mine. There was me thinking that the success of this blog was down to the TOTAL BRILLIANCE of my writing, when all along it was just because my dear aunt told the whole world to read it. That’s what led me to write this post: it didn’t feel right to do a ‘normal’ post when, as Dot’s friend Ali rightly said, there’s a Dot-shaped hole in all our lives.
The day after the funeral, we visited the family home for what will likely be the final time, because it’s due to be sold. My grandparents bought this little house in 1970, and they, and then Dot, lived in it until now. I know, I know, it’s just bricks and mortar; time moves on. But I’ll miss this house. I’ll miss its beautiful long, narrow, back garden. I’ll miss chatting to the other people in the terrace.
Rest in peace, Dot. You’ll never be forgotten.
Thank you for indulging me, my Fine, Fibrous Friends. Normal levels of yarny silliness will be resumed next time.
A lovely tribute to your Aunt 💕
Thank you.
This is my favorite post. It reminds me of my Aunt Dot. The love is the same. Only the names are different. Thank you for this one.
If you too have/had an aunt Dot – even by another name – then you are fortunate indeed. Thank you for your kind words.
I had an Aunty dot, Dorothy, my dads sister. Loved her too.
Maybe there’s something in the name! Aunt Dots are cool.
This is tender and beautiful, I think your Aunt would love this.
I hope so. Realistically, she’d probably have found something in its contents to mercilessly tease me about!
Thank you. What a special person!
I’m sure Dot was there in spirit at her “do”. What a lovely family you have, and Dotty sounded amazing. Hugs x
She was. She really was.
Sending loving hugs and thoughts at this time. Losing someone is so hard and Dot sounded amazing.
Love to you and yours.
Jane x💚🧡💙💛
Thank you Jane. She was indeed amazing. I was lucky to know her.
Makes us want to send cards and words of appreciation to all the Dots in our lives. Thank you for sharing.
Yes, there are other Dots out there, and they should be cherished.
Sorry for your sad heart💔
How lovely for all your memories to be wrapped up in special family times together…..these are eternal and span the separation of life & death.
Much love and blessing xx
Thank you. It doesn’t yet seem real that she’s gone, but I suppose that it’ll sink in eventually. My poor father keeps wanting to phone her.
Sorry for your sadness, but how lovely to have such happy family memories.
Thank you. Yes, my memories of her are of joy and light and love.
I read your words while in a similar place. I have yet to my father’s funeral: he had reached his century. But I know the hole he leaves for us all. I think of you as I think of him understanding our loss.
Oh gosh, I’m sorry that you’re navigating this pain. Please, let yourself be however you need to be. May your father rest in peace.
Thank you for sharing your Aunt Dot with us! In a world gone mad, it is appropriate to remember the kind and gentle people who helped shape us into the people we are. We all love your yarny, silly, twistedly irreverent posts but this one is a eulogy for a dear friend as well as aunt. Be at peace and know she is, too. Thank you.
Thank you. And yes, if the world comprised only aunt Dots then there’d be no war or hatred or greed.
You were both so lucky to have your time together. Aunt Dot clearly lives on, in your work and in the sweet memories!
Yes, I definitely feel privileged to have known her. And she’ll never be forgotten – she profoundly touched so many people’s lives.
I am so very sorry for your loss, Phil.
Absolutely beautiful words, and I am so honoured that you have shared part of your family history with us. Perhaps you could dedicate a new book to Dot? Fame at last 🙂 I’m sure she was with you all at her wake.
Thank you. And oh my goodness, that’s a wonderful idea. She would have loved it.
I have struggled and failed to get an account on WordPress in the past but after reading your very beautiful tribute to Dot I persevered this time so I could leave this comment. She directed me to your blog as she knew I liked knitting and crocheting but also because she was very proud of you and your achievements. She often spoke of the twinnage and bought them a present once when she was staying with us in Wales. She really was the most kind and generous person and I will miss her loads. Love to you all, Gillx
Oh Gill, thank you for commenting. Believe me, she spoke with enormous warmth about you, very very often.
So sorry to hear of your loss…your Aunt Dot sounds like a wonderful person, and you and everyone that knew her were blessed to have her in your lives. What a great tribute to her that her spirit lives on in all her friends and family.
Thank you and you’re right: we’re fortunate to have known her. Just wish she hadn’t been taken so soon.
Your affection for your Aunt shines through, she sounds like she was a lot of fun! Sorry to hear of your loss. And no apologies are necessary; real life is important and we share in both your joys and your sorrows. You can’t have one without the other in this world.
‘Fun’ is definitely a word that was perfect for her. Thank you for your kindness.
So rich to have had an auntie Dot in your life, Phil. One needs a person like that. I became a neurologist because of the electroshock’s therapy a sweet, intelligent teenage friend of mine had for depression, back in those days pretty normal, leaving her handicapped.
Oh gosh, that’s heartbreaking regarding your friend, and yeah, in the light of that I understand your career motivation completely. I hope that despite the handicap and her difficult times, that your friend’s life improved. Dot had ECT too at various points, and other treatments that gave no benefit whatsoever. And don’t even get me started on how she was pressured into being sterilized.
I’m so very sorry for your loss
Thank you. I appreciate it.
Thank you for sharing a little of Aunt Dot with us ❤️❤️
And thank you for saying so. Much appreciated.
Thank you for a lovely tribute to your dear aunt. I think as bloggers we need to include some of the hard times, because life isn’t all sweetness and light. Sometimes it’s shit! Hugs to you, Phil.
Thank you. And yes, to including some of the hard times, but it’s tricky sometimes, because the hard times can involve other people who don’t necessarily want the world told about their problems. But thank you for your understanding of this post. Hugs to you too.
What a wonderful woman and a fabulous, loving aunt your Aunt Dot was. Thank you for this eulogy.
Oh she really was. Thank you for your kind words.
A lovely and moving tribute. Thank you for sharing this. I think the longer we live, the more we all ache for the loss of those who played such treasured roles in our lives. I remind myself often to to grateful for the memories.
Yes, you’re right and wise. I’m conscious of older relatives who find themselves going to funeral after funeral, which must be so hard. My father-in-law talks about this, and my heart aches for him. Thank you for your words.
Those that love is never really leave us
In my head, I know that you’re right. I’ll never forget her. But it’s hard to accept that we’ll never collapse into giggles over a bottle of wine again.
Your Aunt Dot sounds like a wonderful person, so sorry for your loss. Growing older and watching our children (and later grandchildren) grow and mature is such a joy, but it also means losing our older family members over time. The good part is the wonderful memories that keep our loved ones alive for us!
Yes. I suppose that to know love is to know loss. And who wouldn’t want to know love? Dot really was a wonderful person, and she’ll certainly never be forgotten.
It’s only proper to share in remembrance, the ones who’ve meant so much in our lives. The telling enhances the memories.
Yes, I think there’s wisdom in your words. Thank you.
Beautiful tribute. She lives on in these loving thoughts and in your memories.
She does indeed. Thank you.
So sorry for your loss. Remember the happy times.
Thank you, and yes I do.
She sounds like a wonderful Auntie and it was so lovely to read of your happiness at knowing her. I do wonder if we should all have a party in our old adage similar to one we’d hope people may throw as our wake, as you say, Dot might have enjoyed hers.
Yes, totally!! We really should. Dot would have been in her absolute element at the wake. There were all her favourite people there, plus lots of tea and vegetarian food and spring flowers. She’d have LOVED it.
So sorry for your loss but you have some wonderful memories of your Aunt Dot which you can treasure. She sounded a lovely lady.
Thank you. And yes, she truly was lovely.
I’m so sorry. Dot must have been such a special person and very important in your life.
Sending my sincere sympathy. Liz B.
Thank you for your kindness, Liz. She was indeed very special. The world would be a better place if there were more Dots.
On a completely unrelated note, may I offer my shamefully belated thank you for the card and chocolates that arrived here at Christmas? Predictably, two smallish members of my family requisitioned the chocolate and it was very much enjoyed. Thank you. I do keep looking out for you in the village hoping to say hello, but my face-recognition skills are abysmal, so I worry that I just walk right past you…
Thank you so much for all that you share with us. You treat us like any “normal” friend that we can touch and see. Thank you for all that you share with us. Your Aunt sounds like a great person that anyone would love. You are lucky to have so many great memories of her. She will always be with you as you remember her.
Thank you for such kindness and understanding. Seriously. I deeply appreciate it. She was indeed special and yes, I’ll never ever forget her.
Very sorry for your loss.
Thank you.
She sounds like a really lovely person. Thank you for sharing your memories. Dot is part of your personality (and the twinnage’s), and she’ll continue to make a difference in the world through you.
Thank you so very much. She was indeed wonderful. I try to be inspired by her.
So sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your lovely and clearly much loved Dot with us! May her memory be a blessing.
And thank you for such kind words.
Hers was a life well lived judging from the warmth with which she was regarded. Death is the ultimate price for love, and your lovely tribute to her is both personal and universal. Part of the pain is the loss of the shared memories….you can no longer say “Remember when we….”
I nodded emphatically to every single word of this. Thank you for saying this more eloquently than I could’ve managed.
Thank you for sharing, she sounds like a really lovely person!!
Oh she really really was.
You were blessed to have such a beautiful aunt, thank you for sharing her with us
Yes I was. And thank you for your kind words.
Sorry to hear of your loss but wonderful to share in your happy memories of a vey special person.
Thank you as always. I appreciate your kindness.
So sorry for your loss. Dot sounds like someone we would all have loved and appreciated. She lives on in your memories of her and the times you spent together and no one can take that away from you xx
I’m sure she’d have loved everyone here and hope that she’d have been loved by you all, too. Thank you for your kind words and you’re right: nobody can take the memories. It’s just sad that there’ll be no more memory-making.
What a beautiful and touching tribute to your sweet Aunt Dot! I am so sorry for your loss. Perhaps the lesson here is to live each day fully and bravely and to love fiercely!
Yes, I think you’re right about the lesson. And thank you for your generous words.
I am so sorry for you for your loss. Thank you for sprinkling your Aunt Dot’s love further on. ❤
She had a seemingly never-ending supply of love! And thank you for your words.
Your heart must truly ache for the loss of such a special Aunt. You were truly blessed to have had such a “Dot” to enrich your life and you hers. My stepmother was much the same and I miss her so much. Honestly, I shed tears, reading your words today, as I seem to be vulnerable these days with events unfolding as they are. From what you describe, Dot is most likely providing a new wonder to the infinite universe.
All I could do as I read your comment was nod my head in agreement with every word. I’m so sorry that your stepmother is no longer with you. And goodness yes, the times we live in. Someone at the funeral wisely said that it’s probably good that Dot never had to know about the horror in Ukraine, because her heart might just have exploded with grief.
I am sorry for your loss, but all your memories will keep her alive. This is a wonderful tribute. Take care
Thank you so much. She certainly won’t be forgotten by the many, many, many, people who knew her.
It is so hard to lose someone so well loved as your Aunt Dot, someone who has meant so much to you and has added to your happiness as she has. Her love brought you much happiness and though you will miss her so dearly, it will always be with you. .My sympathy to you. xx
Thank you so very much for your compassion and understanding. And you’re right, of course.
A very special post. Thank you for sharing your Aunt Dot with us. Sincere condolences on your loss. She has obviously influenced you and your work greatly. She lives on in your heart. XX
Thank you Janice. She and Shell got on sooooo well, and I think that you and Dot would have liked each other too. Thank you for your compassion. px
A blog exists to reflect the blogger’s thinking – on whatever is occupying the blogger’s mind. There’s nothing to say that a themed blog can’t un-theme itself whenever it wants to.
I feel your unhappiness. There will be a time when Dot is simply there in your heart and head and the misery is gone.
Love you, Phil.
As always, thank you from the very bottom crusty corner of my cold old heart. Seriously. I appreciate your kindness.
Bless you, Phil. I’m sorry for your loss – and for those grieving with you
That was just lovely❤️
Thank you. Seriously.
Thank you. Seriously, thank you.
I’m so sorry for your loss.
Thank you. I guess it’s the price we pay for love.
Sorry for your loss, Phil, and with this annoying pandemic you probably hadn’t seen her as much as you’d like recently. Bless you xx
That’s true. She had multiple health problems and the only time we’ve met up recently has been – unfortunately – at other family funerals. I was hoping to see her more as the pandemic calmed down a little…
Such a lovely tribute fr Dot. May her soul Rest In Peace….
Thank you so much.
Beautiful words, shows the love. My ((hugs)) and prayers flow across the pond to you.
Thank you so much. She was certainly loved – she deserved it.
So sorry to hear of your loss. Alas one of the ‘joys’ of growing older is that we lose the wonderful elders in our lives. Your Dot sounds amazing.
We attended the funeral of a great friend of over forty years this week. It was a really good send off, and so ‘him’. We also got to catch up with friends we’ve known over that period. Alas, we are now at an age where ‘catching up Occasions’ are funerals, rather than weddings. Such is life.
Oh yes, I hear you I really do. When you’re in your 20s/30s, it’s all weddings and babies, and then the funerals start. My poor father-in-law was talking recently about the number of funerals he goes to and it just breaks my heart. Even at my SUPER-YOUNG age (49), I look through my address book and a horrifying number of the entries are deceased. I guess that loss is the price of love. And who’d want to never love?