Shirley Woodhams (27 Feb 1934 - 27 Jul 2015)

In loving memory of Shirley Woodhams who sadly passed away peacefully in her sleep on 27th July 2015 aged 81. She suffered a stroke a year ago, but she was strong, determined and her spirit was indomitable until the end. A loving and attentive mum to Tony, Carol, Sue, Jill and Joanna, grandma to Ben, Daniel, Sam, Katy, Harry, Annderley, James, Marcus, Cameron, Mitchell, Matthew and Becky and mum in law to Liz, Andrew, Rob, Chris and Mike, she will be much missed by those she leaves behind.

Mums funeral service will be held at
Lincoln Crematorium
Washingborough Road, Lincoln LN4 1EF

on the 18th of August at 1.50pm

Family flowers only, so donations to The Newborn Appeal, Liverpool Women's Hospital using the Charity link. This was a charity that mum supported for many years after her daughter Carol lived at the hospital with baby Cameron for months following his early arrival and complications. Mum continued to donate and knit tiny hats and booties for them long after Cameron left.

'Thoughts of mum' shared at her funeral by Her eldest daughter, Carol

I need to open by letting you know that I am under pressure here – direct from mum herself - firstly to be brief and secondly to strictly avoid gushing or over-emotionality. Mum had little time for sentimentality, declarations of love and elongated farewells.
When I think about our mother – I have to characterise her as an irresistible force. And many of the features and principles that guided her life were derived from her early year’s upbringing. She was born in 1934 and her values were shaped by post-war thrift, hard work and generosity - that when it was demonstrated - should not taken for granted. She lost her father to a heart attack when she was young and grew up as an only child with her mother in Croydon giving her a strength, independence, determination, pride and dignity that did not falter - even at the end of her life.
Being an only child - Mum was close to her cousins. She always enjoyed their company – having fun with them at big family gatherings and she resolved to have a big family of her own. Mum was in the Pony Club, owned her own horse and enjoyed horse riding into her late teens. This activity gave rise to many of her most enduring relationships – Trish, Philippa and our father Rodger amongst them.
As kids we always knew mum worked, but we didn’t know her as a career woman. Nevertheless she qualified as a radiographer at a London hospital – a fact she was very proud of, being enormously frustrated in later years when she broke some limbs, when x-rays switched from film to digital format and she could no longer read them. Mum gave up full time work to care for her family.
And what a family it is. Five children, twelve grandchildren and five wonderful daughter and son-in-laws. When we were growing up, whilst our dad went to London on the train to do his job in a bowler hat, mum was the major force at home shaping our upbringing and our education. She instilled in us a raft of traditional values – consideration for others, discipline to stick at a task, the importance of studying and learning and, above all, generosity. She lived out these principles – money was tight - so mum worked in the evenings to make extra money for the nice things such as going on holiday.
Mum was always generous. Generous with her time and her money. We can all recall times when, as teenagers, she raced in to help us out – driving hundreds of miles sometimes through the night to pick us up from places, situations or people that were upsetting us. Nothing worried her more than when her children were unhappy. Mum was practical, ready with solutions and tireless in pursuit of our well-being. She loved to plan – she lived for the future and she was generous with holidays and celebrations that got us all together at least a couple of times a year. Christmas was the most important time of year to mum.
Our family home was Lullington, Landscape Road Warlingham – a house that was big enough for us all to have our own room. A definite offspring pecking order existed there.
Let me give you an insight.
You see, mum always wanted boys. We knew this. So at the top of the house, in the massive attic conversion, the sun shone literally and metaphorically on first-born only son, our brother Tony.
I was next born and rather in the shadow of this light. You see I am the eldest of four sisters and as so I was born with the obligation of having to scythe a path through parental rules and constraints to make things easier for my sisters. It was a battle I took to heart and worked at day and night. I was argumentative, defiant and challenging. Mum said I could start an argument in an empty room. Of course, I disagreed. If mum was an irresistible force, I was the immovable object.
Susan, quietly observant, saw that battling did not bring reward and so slipped into my slipstream and found her way with love, obedience and the occasional endearing foray into mischievous behaviour. Jill adopted humour and charm as her key means of getting by and was adored for it. Finally Jo . . . . well by this time our parents were so exhausted that Jo got away with murder just by asking, – or so it was perceived by us. Later in life the pecking order fluctuated and the girls came into their own. Mum supported our careers and was practical in support of our attempts to combine work and family life. Myself, Andrew and baby Cameron who arrived early and was very poorly for a long time - were especially grateful for mums support – living near us for 16 years.
Mum didn’t really indulge in much reflective analysis, but I know that she was extremely proud of her large family. She loved every one of her grandchildren – as clever, handsome, beautiful and charming as they all are. She loved her children – all of us good citizens, with good jobs, solid marriages but most importantly each with a Maths O’level and a first time pass in our driving test. We are proud of our children, proud of our mum, grateful and proud of each other. We will continue to live out her values and pass them on.
So . . . . although I have been brief, it is difficult to deliver this completely devoid of sentiment. So in a final act of defiance and behalf of all of us - let me say, mum, you may not have welcomed talk of love . . . however - we love you now, we always did and we will miss you every day from here.