Dedicated to the memory of Patricia Smith

This site is a tribute to Patricia Smith. She is much loved and will always be remembered.

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Our Memories of Mum Whether we knew her as Pat, Patricia, Mum, Nanny, Nanna, Great-Nanna, or auntie, we all have our memories of Pat. Here are a few from her sons: Neil, Adrian and Chris: 1. As I got older, we moved to Shafto Road where life for us all changed beyond comprehension. They were difficult times, but in an era of general hardship she soldiered on bringing up 3 boys on her own in her own determined way. 2. I have many early memories of Mum from her dropping me off at playgroup at the church or going into town on the bus and doing lots of other things. 3. Before I went to school, Mum worked at home doing typing. I would often try to ‘assist’ where a 3 or 4-year-old could, but always remember being fascinated by my first experience of an electronic calculator. 4. As we grew older, I remember Mum more often than not being on her green bike cycling the mile and a half to and from her work as a consultant’s secretary. I can still visualise her cycling towards me as I stood on Bramford Lane on a bright Summer’s afternoon waiting for her to come and collect us from Gran’s on her way home. 5. Her day then continued long into the evening, cooking our dinners and doing all the household chores that she couldn’t do during the day. Mum never stopped. As the three of us grew up, she sacrificed her own leisure time to ensure we never went without. And we didn’t. 6. We used to go to Felixstowe a lot and had use of a beach hut there. I have fond memories of those times and, even though it wasn't the most luxurious, far-off place, she made sure we experienced trips away. We always went by train and at times to other places on the old Rover tickets. We also went on many day trips with one of her friends and her son. Mum worked full time and somehow managed to be able to afford to take us around. 7. I have many memories of taking Mum out shopping for all sorts of things, day trips to various places including Felixstowe, the Suffolk coast and North Norfolk or just going for a ride in the country somewhere. We also went on many holidays together to Devon, Cornwall, North Wales, Scotland, America and Canada to name a few. Very happy times that will stay with me always. 8. After Mum retired, she had more time to spend doing the things she wanted. She enjoyed doing crosswords and continuing to learn new facts. In 2019, she got a smartphone and, as well as mastering the basics like making phone calls, Mum learned to use WhatsApp and used this as well to regularly stay in contact with her three boys, her grandchildren, and friends and family. 9. I’m so grateful that I got to visit her regularly. We used to spend ages talking about gardening and I used to bring her plants. We used to have a laugh about certain things and people and did share the same sense of humour. I will always remember her cooking and that I would be overfed on every visit. During a phone call I even once inspired her to make a stew – in fact, I think she hung up quickly so she could rush to the kitchen to make it! Throughout our lives we always had Mum there. She's still here with us, although not now simply a phone call away. It will feel strange not listening to her tales about the weather or how she went to the Co-Op, the hairdressers or her opinion on many matters. But we do have these and many other great memories of her. She was our Mum - determined, independent yet funny. Mum loved us and we loved her. Mum, we miss you.
ADRIAN
24th April 2020
Thank you for setting up this memorial to Patricia. We hope that you find it a positive experience developing the site and that it becomes a place of comfort and inspiration for you to visit whenever you want or need to.
Sent by East of England Co-op Funeral Services on 31/03/2020
I am I and you are you, whatever we were to each other that we still are. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? Life means all that it ever meant, it is the same as it ever was.
Extract from a poem by Henry Scott Holland
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