Joan McCaffrey ^{1 2}

  General Notes:

Nicknamed "Jenny" by her dad after a tom boy who went to school with her mother (Jenny Jones. East Malling. Kent). She was given to doing things that children of her age would not have attempted. She once climbed on the back of a fire engine that was leaving Stockport Cheshire's main fire station at Mersey Square. They had to stop to let her off. Her father, a policeman, was not amused.
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This is a poem she wrote on her Deceased sisters birthday:-
20th April in the year 2000.

Today it's my birthday, I'm now 83,
& My Sister Ivy once shared it with me,
She would have been ninety on this very day,
But the good lord decided to take her away,
I loved her so much but I'll shed no more tears,
For we did have our birthday for eighty two years,
I'll just carry on with what years may remain,
And when my time comes I'll see her again,
God gave us our love right from the start,
So I know at the end he won't keep us apart,
Happy Birthday Ivy, I miss you.
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This is a poem she wrote in September 2,000: -

Who was that woman I just saw pass,
I just caught sight of her in the glass,
She was slow & old, about eighty or more,
And I had the feeling I'd seen her before,
I felt that I knew her extremely well,
But who she was I couldn't tell,
Then I went to the mirror to comb my hair,
And the same old woman was standing there,
She didn't speak but I could plainly see,
that the old woman I'd seen was really me!
I don't feel old deep down inside,
But outside your age you can never hide,
I'd had a feeling we were kind of related,
And "Boy" when I knew, was my ego deflated!
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Both Joan and her sister Ivy were married at Christ's Church. Heaton Norris. Stockport. Cheshire. England. An old imposing Church with a tall steeple, massive front doors overlooking Wellington Road North, to the rear it overlooked a valley where the main town of Stockport (Stock-Port. River Mersey) is situated. Recently (Year 2000) the main part of the Church has been demolished leaving the Front entrance doors and some stained glass windows as a facade. To the rear is a small modern Church.
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This is an E-Mail sent to the author by my sisters first born. It is intact without any editing to show her sentiments captured at that final parade for her mum: -
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Hi John ,Kay followed Mum to the Crem and the rest of us was waiting at the Crem to receive her [like you do waiting for the bride] and we went in behind Mum her coffin covered in flowers with a card from us kids plus Grans Poem.the Crem was full it was a full turnout of family,we had two hymns the first was the 23 Psalm it was beautiful to hear and it rather took us all back we was a full blown Choir better than any large fully trained Church Choir two lines into singing the vicar seemed taken aback realised we was good and started to sing the descant in a strong Tenor voice the second hymn was the Day Though Gavest Lord Is Ended ,with the vicar singing again the descant it was magic never before have we heard a family with so many good singers ,So Grandad passed down his gift and scattered it amongst us as far down as Mums Gr Grandchildren it was something to behold and Mum must have had a tear in her eye listening to us ,we lifted the roof,Phil said a few words and Grans poem and one I found,We went to the Pinwood after and celebrated her life and toasted her with a drink and some memories.Sending you all our love Mave and Alan x x x x
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Philip Andrews (Third child) read the following at the Crematorium Service: -
One of mother's more noticeable characteristics was her insatiable appetite for conversation. Such was her interest in her family, her surroundings, the past, the present and the future she would talk until the cows were back in their stalls. The necessary conditions for her discussions were not complicated, just endless pots of tea, a full packet of cigarettes and an audience. Any audience…alert, comatose preoccupied it didn't matter as long as they were not actually snoring.

Most of you will know that I actually inherited that characteristic. Whilst there is no way I can claim to equal her ability to avoid frayed lips or match her tea intake, you will not be at all surprised, that given such an assembled captive group of listeners as you assembled today, I jumped at the privilege of addressing you and reminding you about some of the events in mother's life.

It didn't take long however, before i realised that it is extraordinarily difficult
to encapsulate and compress someone's entire life into a paragraph or two,
especially someone whose life was as long and eventful as mums. But, luckily,
i inherited another of her characteristics.......the ability to delegate. Oh how
i remember those long gone days as kids after a family meal.....you wash the dishes,
you wipe, you put them away and you make a pot of tea. Well, I employed similar
tactics to help with my difficult task today. I delegated. I begged, cajoled, persuaded all my siblings, in-laws and kin everywhere for their personal memories of mum.
Sadly however, my cunning plan failed quite dismally. Everyone seemed to refer to
the same thing.....mainly FOOD

There were many references to the best roast potatoes in the world. Lots of lip smacking at memories of 4 coloured, jam, cream and chocolate filled layer cakes...rice pudding, then, after tea, with dad playing the organ, buns and cakes and all singing I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts. As Malcolm recalled, mum didn't write a diary. She could remember what food she had prepared and consumed on any particular day and recount every menu in meticulous detail.

Yes...food clearly played a major part of mum's life. A brilliant cook, not in the
Cordon Bleu mould you understand, more of your JCB and fork lift truck school of catering. Maureen recalled an occasion when mum baked the biggest baked potatoes ive ever seen in my life. they were enormous. Mother apologised when she served Maureen saying " I couldn't find any decent size spuds, so I've given you 2".

Everyone also agreed on mum's resourcefulness, skill and artistry. She made beautiful clothes for the girls, she knitted, she embroidered, she crocheted, she drew, she painted, she wrote poems, she wrote letters which were as long and interesting as any best seller and she had a lovely singing voice. She was kind, thoughtful, patient, amusing, and as many, many children, nephews, nieces, grand-children and great-grandchildren will bear witness, her lap and bosom was the comfiest, warmest, snuggest refuge anywhere in the whole wide world.

Her brother John in Canada, said and I quote 'I feel happy that she has served her time
on Earth with distinction, and now reaps the reward of being re-united with those who have gone before her. Wipe away that tear, say a prayer, but above all, be happy for her.

Mavis preferred to merely to provide the following verse. It sums up all our sentiments:

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you waken in the morning's hush
I am the uplifting, gentle rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there……...I did not die

We all know she is now in the heavenly garden that she dreamed dad had prepared for her. She is probably complaining of having to push his wheel-barrow around but no doubt grinning as she secretly snips a few more of his prime blooms for a vase in the house.

in conclusion ...mother's mother kept a diary every day for many, many years.
In her diaries, any time any one of the family died, she wrote the same
small verse. For mum today, i resurrect her mother's words.......

Short is our day. We dream we sigh
At love we play and then good bye
Life is vain. Hope is slight
A touch of pain and then goodnight

Goodnight our mum. God Bless.
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Some three thousand miles away the compiler and his wife toasted her more than once.
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Joan married Walter Charles Andrews on 24 Feb 1936 in Christ Church. Heaton Norris. Stockport. Cheshire. (Walter Charles Andrews was born on 16 Apr 1914 in Gnosall/Wen. Shropshire. England. (Newport S 6A 1291), died on 22 Jun 1979 in Welshpool. Wales. and was buried in Cremated. Emstry County, Shropshire. England..)

  Marriage Notes:

When Joan got married her home address was "Atlasta" 70 Bower House Fold Lane. Heaton Norris. Stockport Cheshire. Entry 87. February 24th. 1936. The Parish Church. Christ Church. Heaton Norris. County of Lancaster. Witnesses: Frederick George Andrews and his wife Edith Jane Andrews Nee. Price. The Rector was T. Fred. Ethell. Married after the Banns had been read. Walter lived at 64 Crossfield Road. Cheadle Hulme. Cheshire. They were Bachelor and Spinster. She had no occupation, he was a grocer.
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