Nancy Gilman (10 Nov 1924 - 7 Feb 2021)

These Old Walls by Nanci Griffith

If these old walls, if these old walls could speak
Of things that they remember well –
Stories and faces dearly held,
A couple in love living week to week, rooms full of laughter,
If these walls could speak.

If these halls, hallowed halls could talk
These would have a tale to tell –
Parties and people raising hell,
Children playing at hide and seek from floor to rafter,
If these walls could speak.

They would tell you that I’m sorry for being cold and blind and weak,
They would tell you that it’s only that I have a stubborn streak.
If these walls could speak.

If these old fashioned window panes were eyes
I guess they would have seen it all,
Each little tear and sigh and footfall,
And every dream that we came to seek or follow after,
If these walls could speak.

They would tell you that I owe you more than I could ever pay.
Here’s someone who really loves you. Don’t ever go away –
Is what these walls would say if they were not so meek.
If these old walls could speak.

Words spoken at the Funeral
Our Gran.
Whenever I think of Gran, I think of her in her front room, sitting in her chair looking forward to seeing us.
She always wore the same style of skirt, blouse, cardy, often blue, and of course the always present pinnie.
It didn’t matter what time of day it was; she always wore a pinne. Ready to bake, cook dinner, clean, make a pot of tea or simply to watch telly!
Alongside the pinne was always the handkerchief 😊 Always in her hand or tucked up her sleeve.
She had quite a few, the main one I remember is one with an A on it. When I was younger, I often quizzed why it was A? As her name was Nancy. She explained her name was Annie and not Nancy. Crazy!
I actually can’t believe she still had the hankies all these years later.
Something else I will always remember was the old fashioned drying airer situated high in the front room, with its own pully system to easily move up and down.
She often told me how it only cost a pound. I never actually thought it worked and dried clothes, until I helped wash and dry her clothes recently and it worked like a charm.
Gran was always right.
Gran was always very quiet, happy to sit back and let us have the limelight.
When Dad was moaning at her for whatever reason (sorry Dad) she used to turn to me and say ‘don’t worry I just ignore him’ and blob her tongue out at him. Like water off a duck’s back.
She was always very interested in what we had been doing with our lives. When I had any hockey bruises or was sore from running. She used to say well you do these things to yourself, so be careful!
But was always interested in hearing about hockey. When we lost 10 nil most weekends, but laughed equally when we won games and said, “did the opposition turn up?”.
Sunday tea at Grans was staple when I was growing up, one of the things I wish I went to more over the past 20 years. It was always the same, me Rich and Wadey played games outside, then we’d come in for Sunday tea at spot on 4.30! There was always loads of bread, meat, tuna, salad and LOADS of cake. Including Dickys Lemon Meringue all for him!
Before tea Dad always used to steal a slice of bread and Gran always shook her fist at him annoyed! But she loved it really.
She seemed very proud of all her family and had SO many photos of us all, which made her happy. She especially loved young children, it didn’t matter where she was if she saw a child she was fixated and always waved and smiled at them. As we’ve mentioned she had a few children/Grandchildren/Great Grandchildren come into her house over the years, most recent was of course Theo. She loved sitting him on her knee or laughing at him when he was giggling and always called him ‘little un’. But Theo was just an example of how she loved all her children.
I showed my friend a picture of Gran recently, who replied, “mate, she’s not changed in 30 years”.
That was Gran. She never changed. Never seemed to age and always there.
Making 96 really is amazing, lasting another 26 years since Grandad passed. It just shows that Porridge for breakfast and hot water as a drink for every meal really does in Grans own words ‘make lions strong’.
Towards the end when I popped to she her in the evening before I left, I used to say ‘right Gran I’m off don’t go anywhere will you?’ ‘don’t worry I’m not going nowhere’
Rest in peace Gran, I know you’re still there sitting in your chair waiting for us to come and see you. But now Grandad’s there too and you’re both listening to Derby on the radio or watching Snooker or most recently commenting on Bradley Walsh’s colourful shirts on the Chase.
Love you now and always.
Elly xxx

Words from Zoe, as spoken at the Funeral

Annie (Nancy) Gilman was not only a sister, wife, mother, auntie, gran, great gran, and a friend, she was a fighter, a believer, a teacher, a guide – she was a ferocious protector, a comforter and a mentor. She was hardworking, strong, and modest. She had simple needs, was forthright and honest. She lived a simple life, and it didn’t take much to make her happy – a phone call, a card, a kiss. All the experiences in her life made her a pillar of strength for the family – especially me and mine.
She always taught us how to take pride in what we did, to always be honest and celebrate our successes, however small, to accept criticism, when it was fair and always admit to something if it was your fault and say sorry. She would tell you if you were wrong, she would tell you if you were right, as long as your idea of right was the same as her idea of right – you can’t find that kind of honesty these days!! She may not have always approved of everything we did or may not have liked some of the decisions we made but she kept on loving us, letting us know she was there and if we ever needed her, we could count on her to listen, comfort and help. It’s an incredibly rare gift in life to find someone who you are not afraid to talk to because you know they’ll always unconditionally love you and honestly root for your happiness as you shape it.
I, like others here, could stand for hours talking about the wonderful times I got to spend with my gran and how I would get away with having weird meals with her like bacon, mash potato and gravy or how we spend our nightly telephone conversations putting the world to rights or how she would walk Fane around and around the supermarkets while I would try and get some shopping (as he hated the supermarket – but we weren’t giving in to him) or how she would take Errin for a walk to try and get her to sleep (which was impossible as sleep wasn’t Errin’s thing) but Gran was determined it would happen!!! Or how it would appear that Arthur was sharing a lovely cuddly moment with his Gran but she in fact had him by the collar – having him just how and where she wanted him – he wasn’t going to mess with his Gran!! But I think the message is so abundantly clear, my gran was an enormous influence on me and my family. Something I feel eternally grateful and lucky for. Without a shadow of a doubt, it is easy to say that we, her family, were the most important people in her world. She lived to make our lives better and was proud of us. We can never forget that there is part of her in each of us, something she gave us and asked for nothing in return.
I worry we never said thank you enough for all you have done for us, for all the times you were by our sides, for all the help you have given us, for celebrating and commiserating with us, for the sacrifices you made, for the laughter and smiles we shared, for all your support, for all your help and understanding, teaching, hard work, good judgement, wisdom, humour, tenderness, patience, for all your courage and integrity, if we didn’t, I’m saying it now and only hope you knew each and every day for the last 44 years – thank you Gran. After you, the mould is indeed broken. We will miss you with every passing minute but be eternally grateful for having you in our lives.

Sleep tight, Gran we will love you forever and always.

Thoughts on Mum from Kath Gilman, as spoken at the funeral

Mum was a natural carer and a giver (I sometimes think it might have affected her relationships with people, but that is the price she paid.) She was always helping someone, Winnie, Aunty Edna.

Mum was a doer. She was a great dressmaker. She made my bridesmaids dresses, all 4 of them. Later, my maternity clothes, particularly when I was expecting Richard and Wade, she was making bigger outfits every month! Later, she made Richard and Wade’s Christening outfits and several other romper type suits. Later, she made 3 Teenage Mutant Hero turtles suits complete with turtle shells, Craft aprons for school….

I remember, when we came back from the Hospital, I had had my antenatal appointment, and we had found out we were expecting Twins, she was looking after Elly for us. Asked me how it went, Ok, I said but we are expecting Twins! She looked at me, and shouted to your dad who was up the garden, Jack! It’s Twins.

I knew no matter what I could rely on her for anything. When it was getting to the end, I was helping shower her or get her dressed, she would say, “I am a lot of trouble and a nuisance to you.” I replied, “Mum all you have done for me over the years, I can at least do this for you!”

xx kath

Please see below for Anne Gilman's tribute to her Mum from the funeral:
Thoughts of my mother – by Anne.
During the last weeks and days of mum’s life, I got to thinking about exactly the sort of life she had. Born in 1924, she would have been around 6 or 7 when the Depression hit, and families struggled to make ends meet, or to afford more than the basic necessities of life. She would have left school and started her first job in 1938 at age 14 – yes, that happened at age 14 in those days! No sooner would she have got to grips with that, than in 1939 – the Second World War! Shortly after it started, in 1940, when mum was just 15, her own mother died, leaving her, as the oldest daughter, to keep house for her father and her two younger siblings, Ken and Edna.
Like everyone, she did her bit in the war, working in the canteen at the local ironworks (converted to munitions manufacturing); and volunteering as a motorbike dispatch rider in her spare time. This turned out to be useful for us, as she remained a brilliant cook right up to her final years. During this time, she met her sweetheart Jack, my dad, who was stationed abroad – so they rarely saw each other for some years.
When the war was over, they married. Mum was still looking after my grandad in the same house where she and dad were starting their married life. Soon afterwards, mum became pregnant with John – this turned out to be a very difficult labour, during which she nearly died; a few years after, another pregnancy, thankfully easier this time, with Alan; followed a few years later by yet another – myself – again, a very difficult birth during which mum’s life was only saved by the skill of a very experienced midwife. During these years, mum was still supporting her (now grown and married) siblings, providing accommodation when they needed a place to stay, and taking on the care of my cousin Paul while my aunt was out working.
As the years went by, and we all grew up and started leading our separate lives, mum had yet more transitions to make, as the world changed so dramatically in the ‘60s and ‘70s. Then the grandchildren and great-grandchildren started coming along. This was one of the joyous times in mum’s lives – she always adored babies – yet even this was tinged with sadness as her darling Jack died in 1995.
Looking back on the kind of hardships she must have suffered in her life, I wondered whether, as that young teenager back in the 1930’s, she had ever had any different dreams or aspirations for her life. If she did, she never let on. She played the hand she was dealt, the best way she knew how, and got on with what needed doing, when it needed doing, day by day, week by week, year by year. She never turned away any of her family, friends or neighbours who needed her help. She would always do whatever she could to make things better for everyone. It wasn’t always perfect, but it was the best she could do in the circumstances she had. She very rarely asked for anything – she was always much happier giving than taking. Even so, in her final months, when decreasing mobility and failing health meant she had no choice but to accept more help, she bore it with resignation and patience, never forgetting to express her thanks for any little service offered.
The love and affection in which she is held by so many people is a tribute to the way she lived her life – not a life of fame, fortune or great outstanding feats; but one of kindness, loyalty, love, perseverance, endurance – an outstanding example to her family and surely a wonderful legacy to leave.
A quote from “Call the Midwife” which I heard recently:
“We flicker on a screen.
We fold and unfold upon the mind’s eye.
Brittle as wings, eternal as a heartbeat.
And even when the heart falls silent, we do not cease to be.
Because, in the end, we all become memories.”

As promised my donation in memory of your lovely mum, after all you did all the work on the day, it was a beautiful service..
Tracey Matthews - Celebrant

In loving memory. Sylvia, Hazel, Ian, Sandra and families

In loving memory. Sylvia, Hazel, Ian, Sandra and families

To Great Gran ..sleep peacefully ..love Camron x