Eulogy for Muriel Elizabeth Culverwell, by Ian and Sue. Thank you all for coming at this very sad time, especially the family members who had a very long journey to get here from East Anglia. Other members of her family are joining the webcast of this service, including her daughter Sue in Australia, her brother in New Zealand, and her nephew in the USA, as well as other nephews and nieces in the UK. We are also very pleased to see so many of Mum’s friends and neighbours here. And we’re delighted to see so many of Mum’s carers too, both from Absolute Care, who looked after her so well over the past four years, and from the Rowan and Linden day centre, which Mum enjoyed attending once a week. It’s very gratifying to know she was so well loved by her carers. A potted history of Mum: • Born 1928, a long time ago: release of 1st Mickey Mouse film (Plane Crazy); Fleming (accidentally) discovered penicillin; ten years after the Spanish flu pandemic. • Born in Ipswich (Suffolk); moved to Loughton (Essex). Oldest of four siblings (3 sisters, one brother). They’re here today (one of them remotely). • Left school at 14, just when it was making sense (she often said). It’s a shame that Mum never fully realised her potential. • Took on a variety of jobs. Had to resign as a GPO telephonist when she got married in 1953. Became housewife and mum to Sue and Ian. • Mum had to go to work again after widowhood in 1973. Became school dinner lady, and then promoted to cook. Sue and I would often come to a second school meal, which Mum had saved from being thrown away, in the evening! • After Sue and Ian left home Mum worked as invoice clerk for about 10 years before retiring about 30 years ago. • Lived alone for a while, before taking the big decision to move to Quedgeley in Gloucester in mid-1990s. A great pleasure of the last part of her life was the friendship she made there with Alma, Terry and their family – whom we’re very pleased to see here today. • Moved to Honiton in 2003, when she was 75, to live with Ian, when his job took him to the South West. She loved living in Devon, and made lots of new friends. Mum’s character traits: • Kindness – always ready to listen and to help if she could. Plenty of people here can attest to her readiness to listen, advise and care, and that’s easier said than done. • Friendliness – Mum had the gift of making friends. When she first moved to Devon, she liked to go to Tesco on the TRIP bus, and have a natter with her friends over a coffee. She also enjoyed meeting up with her friends at the day centre. Dementia, diagnosed 5 years ago, caused her to withdraw into herself, and take less interest in the outside world, but this was not her true nature. • Determination – Mum lived her life as she wished, not as others thought she should. She was happy to stay at home with a book or a jigsaw puzzle, a cat and a TV, and to leave partying to those who wanted to party. (Sue and Ian have inherited Mum’s love of puzzles.) • Strength of character – Probably didn’t want to go out to work after she was widowed, but just did it – because she had to. And although life became increasingly difficult for Mum as the catalogue of infirmities slowly built up, she never once complained about this, never got bitter or angry. There was never a hint of “Why me?”. She just accepted what fate threw at her, and cheerfully carried on. And that cheerfulness stayed with her right to the end. I can still hear her asking the carers “Hello dear, what are we doing now?”. (Getting up, usually.) • Sense of fun – Although Mum was a shy and reserved person, she knew how to enjoy herself when she wanted. Plenty of us in this room can remember riotous party games played at family Christmases, such as Poor Pussy, at which Mum was the undefeated champion. • Mum also had a slightly surreal sense of humour, probably inherited from her father – ‘Press’ reporters and Olympic hurdles. • Above all, Mum was a survivor – 92 is a very good age for someone who might have died of TB in childhood. So thank you Mum, for all that and much more. Sue and Ian spent the first 18 years of their lives with you, and, it turned out, you spent the last 18 of yours with Ian. It will be hard for a while without you in our lives, but you raised us well, and, like you, we will survive. Finally then, when you think of Mum, think of her kindness, her friendliness, the warmth of the smile she gave you the last time she saw you (and she did have a lovely smile), think of her sense of humour – but above all, think of her with love, because that’s how she thought of you.

Parable on Immortality, by Henry van Dyke I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze, and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch her until she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to meet and mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says: “There! She’s gone!” Gone where? Gone from my sight—that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of her destination. Her diminished size is in me and not in her. And just at that moment when someone at my side says: “There! She’s gone!” there are other eyes that are watching for her coming; and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “There she comes!” And that is—"dying."

Shoobridge Funeral Services have dedicated this eternal online memorial to Muriel and we hope that you receive a positive experience developing the site. We would also like to think that it becomes a place of comfort and inspiration to you, your family and personal friends to visit whenever you find the need.