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Do not stand at my grave
          at my grave and weep
I am not there
          there I do not sleep
I am a thousand
           winds that blow
I am the diamond
          diamond glints on snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain

When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift
          the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars
          stars that shine at night

Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there I did not die

Do not stand at my grave
          at my grave and weep
I am not there
          there I do not sleep
I am a thousand
          thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond
          diamond glints on snow

Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there I did not die

Remember

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone away into the silent land
When you can no more hold me by the hand
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned
Only remember me, you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had
Better by far that you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

The Old Rugged Cross

On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suffering and shame;
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.

So I'll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.

Oh, that old rugged cross so despised by the world,
Has a wondrous attraction for me;
For the dear Lamb of God left His glory above,
To bear it to dark Calvary.

So I'll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.

In the old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see;
For 'twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.

So I'll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.

To the old rugged cross I will ever be true,
Its shame and reproach gladly bear;
Then He'll call me some day to my home far away,
Where His glory forever I'll share.

So I'll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.

I miss my aunty Joan. She used to tell me, be good for mummy and that I had the voice of an angel and the mind of a devil, and when it came to Christmas she always done a raffle to make the family happy. Aunty Joan was like another mummy to us, I wish I could make her come back. Why does bad things happen to good people? When I heard what had happened to aunty Joan I think twice about things, like on the 10^th April their was this lady in a wheelchair holding a bucket for cancer research and I gave her all the money I had. Every little bit helps.

Sophie Walsh

Caption -- Joan during her 25th wedding celebratory holiday in Hawaii.

Welcome...
What’s this site all about then I hear you ask? Well the lovely lassie to the right of us is my sister Joan... and this site is entirely dedicated to her. You see she is a very special person to me. I’ll let you in to a little secret shall I? when Joan was 13 years old and I was a mere 4 years, our father passed away from cancer. Joan took the responsibility of looking after her baby sis. Our Mum did her best but with seven kids you can imagine how difficult things could get sometimes. Well where do I begin, she has always been there for me, and I hope I returned the favour. I can’t ever remember a time without her. We shared a bed and body warmth, we shared food and bathwater!!! hahaha you can’t get much closer than that! I remember her trying to protect me from the bullies! fighting to keep me safe, I remember her combing my hair with the nit comb! I remember her feeding me a ball of cheese and telling me it was marzipan!...yuck I so hated cheese then! She also fed me Parma violet sweets, saying Nanny said these make you beautiful on the inside! Joan grew up into a lovely young woman and was soon to leave home.

This was outside 48 Wood lane. I wasn’t born yet  and I’m not sure who took the picture, maybe it was Dad. Joan is the little blondie at the front, apparently Dad used to call her his corn fed girl, due to her golden hair. I wish I was there for that photo but I came along a good few years after this was taken... Joan was always the caring kind type. She would often pop one of the many pets into a pram and take them for a ride. She miraculously  cured a goldfish of a fungal infection, she carefully took the afflicted flesh away with tweesers...and it lived!! I remember another time we went to collect horse manure for Terry’s fertiliser concoctions. There was an old tin bath out back and it was full to the top of poo...anyway we called it Terry’s witchypoo, it was covered by some plywood if my memory serves me well. Joan stood on top of the container to see into the shed window when the plywood cracked and Joan splashed knee high into the witchypoo! She claims to be scarred mentally because of that!!! heeee but jeesh did she stink! and if you know Joan, you know how upsetting it must have been for her.

Back row, left 2 right...John, mo's sister Joan. Front Row left 2 right Mel, Mum,Tony, Mo, Elsie, Ed & Me Trish

Family...
Family has always been important to the Turvey’s, perhaps because we lacked in so many other things growing up. We didn’t have fancy clothes or lots of toys and even things like blankets and coats were considered luxuries. But we have all learned from these times and made a conscious effort to break that cycle. Joan was a perfect example of this. Joan had married Jim and left home, along with all the other siblings, I was left at home with mum when mum became very ill and needed to go into hospital. With John nowhere to be found and all the rest of my brothers and sisters scattered around the country, Joan rescued me. The Social services told Mum I’d have to go into care while she was hospitalised...Joan went Ape****!! She argued with them and it was decided I would go live with her! and that’s what happened. She picked up work from school, and made me very welcome indeed. We had fish and chips on Friday, with Heinz tomato ketchup!! and wait for this...Coke!!! Wow! never heard of in our house! hahaha. She washed my clothes, bought me my first pair of proper jeans and constantly reminded me to wash.  Mum got better and soon I went home again but I never forgot those times.

The photo to the left was one christmas when I was about 14 so that would make Joan about 24... That’s Mum with us there and this was @ Joan & Jim’s place in Istead Rise. I think Joan’s two kiddie were both born when living here, if that is wrong forgive me...the memory is flagging. Yes! Joan and Jim had two children together, Sarah & Marc! She doted on them all so much, she made her family her main focus in life. She packed up work and became full time devoted Mummy and wife. 

Sisters...never met such devoted sisters!

My Sis...
Joan has been a part of my family’s everyday lives for years...when Holly (My eldest daughter) was born, she was among the first to come visit at the hospital, despite the snow! She even let us stay with her while I tried to sort out personal stuff. Never having a second thought. I’d ask...she’d say yes! I don’t know what I’d have done without her really. A Super sis! She is as important to me as my own kids, she is and always will be loved as if she bore me herself.
Unfortunately Joan became ill with rib problems around the time the Hawaai photo was taken. When she returnes she had pain in her ribs and suprisingly discovered that she had broken her rib. We had many a discussion on the subject over the phone and we both thought it was the same problem as her hip. She had suffered atheritis for some years and had major surgerey on her hip in her thirties. Shortly after this Joan broke another rib! I remember saying “Joan it’s allright the doctors saying, yes Mrs. Smith you have broken a rib! Why have you broken another rib? You shouldn’t break ribs by stretching or sneezing...” I think from there on in she knew exactly what was going on inside her body. Joan’s health deteriorated slowly at first and then so rapidly we didn’t have a chance to take a breath. Joan had secondary cancers in her bones, the primary was hiding somewhere...We would talk pretty much daily on the phone, I wished so much I lived closer, I could have done more for her. We’d text each other all the time. We always closed any conversation with....I lvove you, I love you too... And I do so much, my heart hurts.

Jim & Joan on their travels.

So hard...
When you look at all the photos we have of Joan it is so hard to beleive she has gone from us. I never dreamed this could happen, and so I find it helps me personally to look at her photographs, as much as it hurts. One day I will look at them and no longer have a sudden pang of loss, it will be replaced by warm feelings of comfort. I just wish we had more time. Below you will find a letter that I wrote to try purge myself of grief, please read it but if you know Joan, I must give you a wee warning that it may enduce a few tears. Also a couple of Emails from the fantastic nurse that befriended us during our time at Maidstones Culpepper ward, (Andrea you have no idea how deeply you touched me....Thank you! And if anyone wants to do something nice today, make a small donation to Maidstone Hopsital! every penny counts folks! We all love her, we all miss her terribly. And my heart goes out to her husband Jim and her two children Sarah & Marc...I love you and if you need me I’m here...a bit delicate myself, but with a lot of love to offer. Well now Spring in upon us and we should maybe begin thinking about getting together sometime soon (When Eddy’s hip is a bit better!) perhaps that picnic at Leeds castle or something? let me know your thoughts on that. Ok DON’T FORGET THE GUESTBOOK! see you L8R...Trish xxx

I needed someway of venting my grief, so I thought I’d write to you, a faceless nameless stranger.  Whoever gets to read this letter, I hope it is not too gloomy for you. I have written a poem for my sister, I feel that it will not be of any importance to anyone, but I consider writing all of this down as my therapy. My name is Patricia and I am 37 years old. Last year Feb my older sister was diagnosed with secondary metastasis bone Cancer. I probably spelt it incorrectly but hey, I’m no doctor. My sister practically raised me, as my mother was widowed with 7 kids when I was 4 yrs old. Joan (my sister) barely 13 yrs old herself took on the role of my mummy. She would wash my dirty face, chastise me when I was naughty, and cuddle me when I cried. Although I had 5 other siblings, Joan and I always stuck together through the years. Joan became ill…she lived in Kent and so we spoke everyday on the phone, often we’d cry together as I tried to convince her it would be ok. “I don’t want to die,” she sobbed….”you won’t,” I said trying to stay strong for us both. Unable to get to her home as often as I wanted to, I thought now’s the time to learn to drive and then I could spend my days with her and get home in time for my kids (4 in all). Money was very tight and it was so hard for me. But I saved every penny I could get my hands on, bought a funny little car and continued to take lessons. My sister worsened rapidly, her bones became weak and broke easily. My heart was breaking so I cadged lifts from anyone who was heading in her general direction…my friends sometimes took me to her, or people I barely knew who were going to Bluewater dropped me off. Every time I saw her she was getting worse, we’d spend the day together, I’d try lifting her spirit, promising that if she started to loose her hair, mine would come off too! We’d laugh and try and look to the future, then I’d see her settled in bed and head off home again. My heart broke, as I knew our time together was coming to an end. Driving would have made it so much easier…I failed my test, Damn it! I put myself under so much pressure to pass for Joan…so worried I’d let her down if I failed; I was too desperate to succeed. I secretly rebooked a test for November 9th. Meantime we would constantly text each other. One morning I awoke to the beep, beep of my mobile…Rubbing tired eyes I read the text message, good morning my lovely baby sister, I’m not too bad at the moment, call u later, love Joanie xxx. These made me smile J

Joan struggled with steroids, radiotherapy and drug cocktails to help this and that! One October day I visited she was very ill, I lay on her bed holding her, trying to rub away her pain without much success. The following day she was really bad and was taken into Maidstone hospital. She had developed a DVT, Deep Vein Thrombosis. I stayed by her bedside and promised I would be with her every step of the way. She was upset that her hair was beginning to fall out, so I shaved my head as I had promised, proudly she showed me off to the nurses, “look…look what she’s done for me” tapping me on my blue bald head with the blood pressure thingy on her finger! I raised a few pounds in the process and Joan insisted that we spent it on the nurses. We witnessed her steadily fade away before our very eyes, her husband and two children couldn’t bear to see her, so weak, so unlike the strong feisty woman she really was. My lovely supportive and kind sister was now dying…. The DVT found it’s way to her lung and it became clear she was not going to recover. The family looked on in tears as the doctor asked her if she wanted to be resuscitated if things went bad, only to see her shake her head no. Her lungs filled with fluid, her body wracked with pain, she began a slow natural euthanasia. The Macmillan nurse said she’d pass away at around 3pm that afternoon, but she hung on. I promised I’d stay with her…she was in too much pain for me to touch and this next 5 days and nights were the most tortuous times I’d ever have to experience. My brother Tony my husband Stu and I stayed at the hospital from there on in, fearful to go home for dread that she died alone. Stu stayed outside the ward trying to organize visitors and making tried to ensure that I was ok too. Tony was like a guard, sitting by her watching her every breath, sleeping for very short periods on the hard cold hospital floor. I became her voice, if she hurt; I asked the nurse for more painkillers, if she was uncomfortable, I made sure she was moved. She didn’t need to speak to me or tell me what she needed, I knew instinctively. She’d be there for me if the roles were reversed. She’d hold my hand and wipe tears from my eyes and knock up a picnic hamper for my visitors! After five long days of hardly any sleep and waiting for her last breath, I got to thinking. Why wasn’t she going? She was ready to die but was there something we had forgotten? Was there something we needed to do? Allsorts of things went through my head. So much sadness comes with Death, but then after a time Death becomes like a dear friend, you find you are longing for it to come…for the pain to stop…for her struggle to end. At one stage she begged me to finish her off…”do it Trish, please, please finish it!”. She begged gasping for breath. If I’d had no children and a husband to consider, I would have done that for her, out of love… but the consequences scared me. Nurse Andrea came in to Joan’s room and as she looked at her she gently brushed a tuft of hair from her forehead “alright sweet” she whispered, she turned and looked at me and her face spoke a thousand words of understanding, she popped down the side rail of Joan’s bed “you should give her a cuddle” and with that she left…. At first I was afraid to touch her, afraid of causing her pain. I stroked her hand very gently, and when I was sure I wasn’t hurting her, I sat on the side of the bed and slipped my arm under her neck. I stayed there for the longest time just holding her, whispering in her ear, not to be afraid, to just relax and let it happen. I sang Braham’s lullaby almost at a whisper, again and again…. slowly her breaths became shallower, gentler. Andrea came once again to see how she was doing, made her nice and comfy, and before we knew it Joan had gone…she had slipped from this mortal stuff…. quietly and with dignity she drew her last breath, with her baby sister holding her hand. Was that all she was waiting for, a cuddle and some words of reassurance? 

Joan Heather Smith died on November 10^th at 3:30 am, aged 47. I just wish I had passed my driving test, ironically I didn’t manage to get to the test center on the 9^th; if I had passed I could have spent more precious time with her. I miss her terribly, I feel so isolated here now, and her telephone calls were my lifeline, now she’s gone…. I’m left with my memories, lots of love and a mobile full of text messages from my Joanie…  My dear sister.

On the day of Joan’s funeral we took a whole load of treasures for the nurses who cared for her. Bubbly, incense, candles books …lots of girlie things. They were overcome by the gesture. But that’s how Joan was…giving till the end.

Best Regards P Walsh Feb 04

Dearest Tricia

it's very difficult to explain how much your lovely presents cut through all the crap involved in everyday life on the ward,

no one that read your card had dry eyes! 

& no one had forgotten "lovely Joan in sideroom 2", even people who had annual leave during Jo's time with us had heard of her & her wonderful support crew!! 

I remember telling Jim (whilst trying hard to hold back the tears) that Joan was exceptional, lots of us felt it, but it was something imperceptible to measurement & completely beyond analysis.

your presents are wonderful and treasured 

the lightbulb is superb! & immediately claimed!?! by Lizzie ( my 12 year old daughter) -she who runs my life!

the music is soooooooogood!! yes all of it! thankyou! I have danced around my tiny terrace all evening -oh my James Brown is worn out! 70's revival & youth club disco memories! ( & havent heard 'turn on the light' for yonks!) luuuuurve the Cool Urban beats -infact I love all of it!

the books are the choice of an observant & sweet person, thankyou

the buddha, wonderful cheeky pixies, candles, incense & bag all such lovely booty!!

Visited Camden years ago when my son James was tiny (he's 17 now). It sounds like a place I should visit! & you know I would love to see you again, yes Tony too! until then, all strength & love to you sweet.

Andrea xxx

Eulogy for Joan Heather Smith nee. Turvey

Born 3^rd July 1956                           Died 10^th November 2003

It only dawned on me the other day that my earliest memory of anything must have been the sight of Joan as a very chunky, chubby baby. I am not sure how old she would have been at the time but mum was in bed and there were quite a few people around so I am guessing she was very new and I was just about 2. 

I also remember walking around Woolworths, Joan had been crying and Tony and I thought it would be a great idea to give her a Polo Fruit to cheer her up and stop the crying.

The crying stopped almost immediately, but being only a couple of weeks old, she also stopped breathing, we had managed to choke the poor child and she started to turn blue.

The next thing you know there was a mad panic and a shop assistant with longest finger nails you have ever seen got her hand down her throat and maybe saved Joans life along with ours most likely. As a youngster its all the little things you remember:

Like the time she fell asleep on my lap on her very first visit to Sunday school aged 2 years.

As kids we had to ask permission before leaving the table after meals and the standard way to ask was  “please may I leave the table?”

Although she got the tune right Joan struggled to remember the words correctly and we can remember her shouting at the top of her voice cute little voice “Me I Tee I Able”

Joan from a very early age had an amazing affiliation with animals and she wore her PDSA badge with pride.

Every pet that died at our house got a proper funeral when Joan was involved, little padded box a hole in the back garden, a make shift cross a few prayers.

Incredibly she once performed an operation on one of the Gold fish and with the aid of a pair of tweezers Joan aged about 9 removed a fungal growth from the mouth of a Gold fish and the fish lived to a ripe old age.

All animals were equal as far as Joan was concerned and she thought if dogs can go for walks then why not chickens! She made up a little lead and much to the amusement of the neighbours; she took the chicken out for a walk.  Sadly she tried the same trick with a pet mouse with disastrous consequences. The poor mouse got loose and ended up under a 165 bus, the mouse did get the special funeral treatment though.

Joan was an incredibly pretty child with gorgeous long blonde hair and stunning eyes but she always seemed to be a bit accident-prone; for example she managed to stand on a needle that went several inches into her foot.

Dad once lifted her over a fence; she got hooked up on the way down and popped all the buttons off her dress.

She tripped over the flex of a hot iron, got tangled up and ended up sitting on the dam thing burning her backside.                                                                               She sat on a Wasp.

Terry had made up a right smelly fertiliser concoction in an old tin bath in the garden, Tony and I had peed in it regularly, Joan fell in it, she was mortified.

Joan had a tough time of it when she first went to secondary school and needed to wear a hearing aid after she had been diagnosed with a hearing problem, however miraculously the hearing problem corrected itself when she changed schools.

By the time she left school and started work she had developed into this lovely person with a wicked sense of humour.

She enjoyed telling horror stories and for effect she make would make her eyes kind of pulsate, poor Tricia was terrified, conversely she had us all in fits of laughter when she told stories of when she worked in a little supermarket in Rainham.

There is one story in particular that springs to mind:

Her shop manager who was clearly an off the wall character was having problems with shoplifters. Unfortunately they didn’t have the luxury of closed circuit TV, so he decided to climb inside a very large cardboard box that was sat on a trolley with a couple of eye hole cut into it. He got one of the staff to position him in the shop where he could spy on any suspicious customers. He was in the box for ages and the checkout girls could hardly inhibit their giggles to shrieks of laughter before an elderly lady he had been spying on picked up a tube of toothpaste, she turned to the light in order to read the label, now this looked to the bloke in the box like a definite attempt to steal. He jumped up out of the box and shouted, the poor old lady nearly had a heart attack, dropped her shopping and ran out of the shop. 

Joan had so many qualities and having had the pleasure of working with her for a while I can confirm that everyone loved Joan.

I think if you were looking for one characteristic that set Joan apart it was the fact that she was an innate carer, she cared with a passion. She settled into marriage and motherhood quite naturally, and she took her responsibilities seriously and regardless of what pressures she had to cope with she was always there for everyone because she cared.  Like the time when Tricia at 13 years old was in danger of being put into care because mum was taken into hospital, Joan was there to deal with it because she cared.

Joan was totally devoted to Jim and she was always proud that her children Sarah and Marc were growing into such fine human beings

Joan got huge pleasure from giving, she was generous to a fault, she was a fantastic host and nobody left her home hungry in fact doggie bags were mandatory. Even when she was very poorly she never missed a birthday and whenever she gave a gift it was always special because you knew she had given it much thought which gave it special meaning.

When Joan became quite ill she found it very frustrating, mainly because her whole purpose in life (which was to care for others) was turned upside down. She was upset because she couldn’t do her housework, she was unhappy at the way she was looking because the steroids puffed her face up. We used to discuss on the telephone her illness and how the treatments were going and where I should have been comforting her she always seemed to be the one doing the comforting. I will never forget those words she always said whenever we spoke “I’ll be alright”

Joan was the kindest most loving person I have ever known and she was without doubt the finest wife, the best mother, very very special auntie, darling sister, caring daughter, wonderful niece and the most loyal friend you could ever wish to have. She was as beautiful inside as she was outside.

Some of the words I have gathered from others to describe Joan as a person:

• So organised,
• Always well turned out (but she was never vain),
• Honest,
• Loyal,
• Caring,
• Someone that others aspired to,
• She always did what needed to be done regardless of how difficult or unpleasant it might be,
• She was never judgemental,
• A ray of sunshine

Joans last days were spent at Maidstone hospital and even though we were faced with the fact that Joans battle for life had virtually been lost there was a little poem stuck up on the wall in her ward that made us smile,probably because it reminded us of Joan.

It was entitled The Glow Worm and it went something like this

I wish I were a Glow Worm

A Glow Worms never glum

How can you be grumpy?

When the sun shines out your bum

Joan was our little glow worm and sadly her sunshine has finally gone but we are far richer for knowing her and if we could all take a leaf out of her book and just care for others a fraction of the amount Joan cared; What a wonderful legacy that would be to her short life! It may even help the pain to go away!

 And if like me you were questioning why someone so loving and caring was taken so young then perhaps Joan really was an angel playing with our hearts and heaven was short of one?

God Bless you Joan!

Edward Turvey (Big Brother)

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