“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write” is one of the biggest clichés in the history of language, but if you’ll allow me the smallest of indulgences, in this case it’s absolutely true. You see, I’ve written for as long as I can remember, before I even knew what writing was, let alone its power. Jean was my most avid reader, my harshest critic, and my loudest supporter in everything. Jean has read every single word I’ve written since childhood. From ideas on scratch pads to poems and fully formed stories, the words weren’t real until I’d shared them with her. “Where does it all come from?” I can remember her saying as she finished one of my stories. No writer ever really knows, but I can say, the way Jean helped me view and even process the world, both the good and bad, has to be a contributing factor. She would red-pen everything, wasn’t capable of false praise, and when praise came, it was a cause for celebration. My journey with Jean began at my very beginning. I can't remember her not being there whenever I needed her. Even though she was always there, we became very close when my mother and father separated. She was the stability in my life from that day on. Always a phone call away, and a 5 minute drive, I could ask her anything. When I describe Jean to others, I say, “There are things I’ve told her that I wouldn’t tell a priest.” Nothing shocked her, ever. I love that about her. Jean always made time and a place at her table. Countless times I have called on the way home from work asking, “What’s for dinner?” There was always enough, and if there wasn’t we picked something up. I’d be home after midnight most of the time putting the world to rights. Before mobile phones, if you couldn’t find me, try 3689. Jean’s ear was nonjudgmental, and her advice was always solid. She taught me that there's nothing I was going through that someone else hadn't experienced. Before the Internet that took some convincing, after the Internet, well.. She was right. Everything from first love to parenthood has been discussed, and has come true. Jean taught me so many things that I hold true to this day, they would fill several volumes. Here are just a few: “A problem shared is a problem halved.” “If you say you’re going to do something, do it.” And my personal favourite, “If you cant be good, be careful.” Jean embraced my love of cinema, and the process of filmmaking. While we didn’t always agree on taste, many movies have Jean connected to them. While most kids were off getting drunk on the last day of senior school on May 13th 1994, I had a date to Four Weddings And A Funeral with Jean. We laughed all the way through it. And again on video, and again. I had a note to ring her today to say, “Do you know what we were doing 30 years ago today?” That’s a phone call that I can no longer make, but I’ll watch it tonight with her on my shoulder. I’m sure all of us here share similar experiences, as we all shared Jean. She’s plastered all of Hillingdon and has been recognized by the Queen. Our entire community owes a debt of gratitude. I also owe a debt, not just to her, but to Derek, Martin, Karen, and numerous others for allowing me to share in her miracle. I am forever changed for the better, because of her. Unlike all the other words I’ve written, these are missing the vital ingredient: Jean’s opinion. I hope she'd be proud. Rest in peace, my darling. You will be remembered with love, respect, and gratitude, always and forever. James.

Thank you for setting up this memorial to Jean. 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.

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.