A Special Friend
/A few months ago, a dear friend completed her earthly mission. I remember when Trish and Wayne first moved into the neighborhood. I especially remember “Sydney Dog” who passed away just a few months before Trisha. She explained to me when they first got Sydney Dog, he didn’t understand them. And how they had to teach him English because he had come from Mexico. She told of the time that she fell while outside working in her English garden, and Sydney Dog would not leave her side, even when it started to rain. Trisha laid there until Wayne got home to help her get up and back into the house. She loved her animals and treated them better than most people do their children. 😊
It has been a blessing and a privilege to become Trish’s friend through the years. Many of us don’t understand the British culture that is much different than America’s. People from Great Britain are extremely private and properly English. Trish had her boundaries, and if these were crossed, she did not hesitate to put you in your place by calling you out as a “nosy bugger” or a “snob”. She had a dry sense of humor, and could be a little prickly at times, but when you got to know her, she became your best friend. We hit it off on that first visit when I noticed she collected Port Meirion dishes, particularly the Botanic Garden pattern. She didn’t like you to ask her personal questions, however, would engage happily in anything to do with England, lovely dishes from Stoke on Trent, the royal family, Winston Churchill, and anything else that had to do with England. She was a walking history book on all things English and I loved that. My ancestors came from the district of Chelsea in London, and we shared stories of them listening to the LDS missionaries of our church on “Preacher’s Corner” in Hyde Park. Trisha converted to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints while in England and attended church at the Hyde Park Chapel in her early days as a member, which is kitty corner across the street from “Preacher’s Corner”.
Trish was a war baby growing up in Camberwell, a district in South London. She would share stories with me about the times she would climb out on top of the bomb shelter to watch the British Supermarine Spitfire planes fly overhead. She said they were so close she could see the color of the pilot’s eyes. She would wave to them, and they would wiggle their wings to wave back at her. All this while her mother was yelling at her to get back inside before she got them all killed!
Trisha’s life was not an easy one, and she was particularly private in sharing many details of the painful times. She nursed and cared for her two adult sons, Kevin and Spencer, both of whom suffered from a rare terminal disease, until they passed. When I lost my own grandson, Trisha was one of the first to reach out to me asking for me to come visit. I will never forget that visit as she hugged me and told me, “It will all be ok love. The pain will always be there, but it will get easier to deal with as time goes on.” She knew this from personal experience.
One of her favorite callings in our church was teaching in the disabled ward in their stake several years ago. She became a favorite teacher for the young students in this particular ward, many of whom were autistic. In addition to her normal teaching, she would share special stories about her life in England. Especially during World War ll.
She was affectionately known as “Dipstick” to her students. This originated when she told them the story about when she first came to the United States. She was a young single mother and had just bought a used car. The dealer told her to be sure and always check the oil. He showed her where the dipstick was located to do this. However, he forgot to show her the cap where the oil should be added if needed. She asked him, “How do you get the oil from a big oil can into that tiny dipstick tube?”
The youngsters in that ward saw the humor in her question. Even a couple years later Wayne and Trisha would occasionally pass one of them on the street. They couldn’t remember her real name, but they remembered the nickname they had given her – “Dipstick”.
I will miss our late-night texting sprees. Another thing we had in common. I don’t sleep and evidently Trisha didn’t either as I would often receive texts from her anytime between 2:00 and 4:00 in the morning. I looked forward to our texting visits, especially after 2020 and Covid when she pretty much didn’t leave her home. We still found ways to visit and stay connected.
Trisha passed away on Friday, May 8th. How ironic is it that Europe celebrated VE Day – Victory in Europe – on May 8, 1945. This date was the end of WWII in Europe. On this day Britain erupted in joy with street parties, dancing and bunting everywhere! I don’t believe it was a coincidence that our own war baby gained her victory over death on the anniversary date of VE day! A day she experienced firsthand 81 years ago. She would have been almost 8 years old then.
I don’t believe in coincidences. I have no doubt that Heaven erupted in joy with parties and dancing in the streets when Trish stepped through the veil, free of the earthly body that, in the end, kept her from doing all the things she loved. And I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t bunting as well. Trisha loved England and she loved America, holding both countries close to her heart.
Trisha loved her Heavenly Father, She loved her Savior, and she loved her family. She is now living in Heaven with family members who have already passed on, watching over those still here on earth. Trisha let God Prevail in her life and showed this by spending every opportunity she could serving Him, as she served others.
I had the opportunity to speak at her funeral and create the floral arrangement centerpieces for her funeral luncheon.
I made sure to include many things that made Trisha the incredible woman she was.
My wish for you this week is to reach out to your friends and let them know how much you love and appreciate them. Write the note, go to lunch, do the craft day.
Love Ya, Les 😊