Judith was my father Chris’s cousin. I have many memories of Judith from being a child living in London. Visiting the flat up all those stairs (probably wasn’t that many but as a child it felt far), the smell of amaretti biscuits always reminds me of her.
Every year she would send me and William a picture advent calendar and lovely presents in the post. One I remember well was a pop up paper stage with slide along characters. 

She is thought of often in our house due to this beautiful headboard which was made for me as a child by my dad and her daughter. It is now in pride of place in my little boy’s bedroom for the next generation of Browns. 

Judith was always very kind and had a beautiful smile. She will be very missed. 

Sarah xxx

From a very young age, Mum showed me the value of slowing down and taking in one’s surroundings, of appreciating beauty and developing good taste. I felt her deep-seated, spiritual affinity with certain wild and free landscapes.

She gifted me my first experience of the magic that is theatre (at Sadler’s Wells). That first swish of the curtain and the electricity of a unique shared experience remain an unbridled joy. Mum delighted in stories and books, devoured many, lived by some, shared freely for which I am very grateful. I adored growing up in London and she showed us the best of its amazing culture; the theatre, the ballet, the museums and galleries, the green spaces and magical backstreets. 

I drink daily from her mugs, and her pretty salt and pepper shakers sit on my kitchen shelf. They are both a happy reminder, and a symbol of continuity and change as I forge my own, different family life with Leigh and Frank. I do not know where they came from, if she bought them, or was given them, I may well have been told and forgotten. They remind me that I do not know her full history and never will and that is fitting. She lived a whole life before she had us and it belongs to her.

To a point, I began my grieving process quite some time ago; since I was last able to have a proper conversation with her. However, Mum’s voice remains with me in many of my own thoughts and actions. Some which I actively try to challenge, some which I embrace. 

Mum (and Dad) forged my political and philosophical outlook. We were encouraged to question and challenge the status quo for which I am very grateful. 

Snapshots of multiple memories jostle and criss-cross in my mind at the moment, then spin on, rather like a carousel. If and when any fix more stably, I’ll share them. For now, to paraphrase Frank, ‘She is gone, but we love her, don't we.’