Dedicated to the memory of Maureen Rose Goodyer

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Maureen and Keith have been friends of the family for over 50 years. Keith and my dad, Dennis Dumbleton, were best friends, radio ham enthusiasts and worked together. We would go round to see Keith, Maureen and the family often and I remained friends with them in my adult years, visiting them in Coventry often even though I now live overseas. I saw Maureen a couple of years ago before she was sick and we loved to chat and have a laugh and a cup of tea together. I went to see her a year ago when I knew she had cancer and from then on, we kept in touch by phone every few days and chat for hours. I absolutely loved chatting with her. She was one of the best conversationalists I’ve ever known. We would talk about everything and nothing, and we would laugh and share our love of all things Japanese. A few months before she died, she sent me a geisha girl necklace, which she had bought from an antique market years ago. I now wear it round my neck in memory of her. A few weeks ago I flew to England to see her in hospice and she had one request. She said that she had never had a cheeseburger in her life and she wanted one. So we went out to lunch the next day and she had a double cheeseburger with onion rings and alcohol free beer to wash it down! We had such a wonderful afternoon together. I miss her, especially our long conversations and her laughter. I’m truly grateful that our families were life-long friends. You rest now, Maureen.
Amanda Urena (ne Dumbleton)
12th September 2024
Thank you for setting up this memorial to Maureen Rose. 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 Heart of England Co-operative on 29/08/2024
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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The Myton Hospices
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