Edith Ivy Maud was born in 1920, named after 3 maiden Aunts, she hated all her names and chose to be known by what she considered to be the lesser of the evils, so for most of her life she was known to everyone as Ivy. Ivy was born in a maternity hospital in South Wales that is now a prestigious hotel and golf course, she grew up in a small village in Gwent in South Wales.
She told us many stories over the years about life growing up in the village. One of the stand out ones for me also demonstrates what a force of nature her Mum was. As a teenager she would go out on a summer evening with her friends, but her curfew was 9pm. They knew the time by the trains going between Newport and Cardiff. One such night either the train was late, or they just missed it, but sitting in the fields they could hear a loud whistle coming from the village. Her Dad worked on the railways and had a train drivers whistle, and she just knew. Filled with embarrassment she jumped up and ran home, and sure enough, there was her Mum standing at the front gate blowing the whistle. The entire village knew whenever they heard it that Ivy Loftus was late home. She was mortified.
She left home in her late teens, during the war, to work in a munitions factory in Bristol. She would never return home to live in her native Wales. Bristol was hit by numerous air raids, and every time she had to run down 150 steps to get to the air raid shelter. They would hear the noise of the doodlebugs overhead as they ran, and when the noise stopped they would drop to the floor against the steps to try and take shelter in case it fell nearby. One night after a really long day at work she was shattered and when the sirens went off she decided she would just stay in bed. Her cousin who she lived with insisted she get up and off they went. Once the all clear was given she returned home to find a burnt blackened mess where her pillow had been and a hole in the ceiling, the house had been hit by shrapnel and had she stayed where she was I wouldn't be here today!
While she was living in Bristol she often went out to dances with her friends. One night at a dance she met a young RAFman called Doug, they immediately hit it off and he asked if he could take her out again. They arranged to go out a few days later, and during this second date he asked her to marry him. He was deploying a few days later, to Egypt as part of the North Africa campaign as it turned out. She said yes, and they were engaged to be married before he left. They married in January 1946 shortly after he came home from the war.
They were married for 57 years, to the day, she passed away on their Wedding Anniversary. They had 4 children, one however only survived for a few days, six Grandchildren and to date have six Great Grandchildren. They lived for many years in Gloucester, which is where my Grandad was from, then moved to Warwickshire and eventually Coventry. They finally settled back in Coventry after 3 or 4 years in Scotland with my Grandad's job.
She was quite a woman, she was Welsh through and through and proud of it, and regardless of how much her accent had faded she always swore with a deep Welsh accent. She had a fiery temper and could hold her own in any situation, nothing and no-one phased her. She was fiercely loyal and a true matriarch! She was the absolute centre of our family and the glue that held it together. She looked after everyone, and her very next sentence after greeting you would almost always be "have you had food?" She was an incredible woman!
It was a job with Daimler / Jaguar that brought them to Coventry, so it seemed fitting that her last journey was in a Daimler, albeit a hearse. The name of her coffin was the Edinburgh and we sang Cwm Rhonnda. All quite fitting really, and its funny the things you remember isn't it. I remember hardly anything of her funeral, it all passed in a total blur, but I remember what her coffin was called,
For a long time I blamed myself for her dying, I'd taken her to hospital you see, and she'd ended up with a hospital acquired infection which ultimately was behind her death. If I'd kept her at home and managed her there she'd never have got it and things would have been different. But she'd had another stroke and the sensible part of me knows I couldn't have managed her she couldn't weight bear etc. I know it wasn't my fault, but that took me a long time to come to terms with.
She was the one person in my life who always loved me unconditionally, who never judged me, was always there with a hug. Don't get me wrong, she never pulled punches, if I needed telling I'd be told in no uncertain terms, and she took no prisoners. But she always loved me, and was always there for me, regardless!
In the months before she died, especially when I visited her in hospital I often referred to her as Gorgeous, we used to giggle! I'd say give us a cuddle Gorgeous, climb on the bed next to her and snuggle up. I treasure those moments.
I wasn't with her when she died, a fact that although at the time I was devastated by, I am now glad of, because I wasn't ready to let her go, and could never have let her go peacefully, and its what she deserved. So it was as it should have been.
My very last words to her were "Good night, God Bless, see you tomorrow, Love you Gorgeous!"
Corinne was almost 5 when she died, and the first thing she said when we told her was that it would be OK and we'd still see Big Nanny every day, she's the biggest brightest star in the sky now. We still look up to the sky every night, look for her and say hello.
Ivy Agg, Mum, Nan and Great Nan, never forgotten, and loved every bit as much today as the day you left. We think about you every day and miss you terribly.
So I guess the only thing left for me to say is....
Good Night God Bless, Love You Gorgeous!! xxx
Cxx
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