Elizabeth sat comfortably on the sofa, her eyes glued to the screen as the familiar scenes of Call the Midwife unfolded before her. As I approached, she glanced my way and gestured enthusiastically for me to join her for a chat. With a warm smile, she shared that the show held a special place in her heart, evoking vivid memories of her own experiences as a midwife in London during the vibrant 1960s.
Each door that opened signified not just an entrance into a home, but the thrilling possibility of welcoming new life into the world — a moment filled with hope and excitement. Elizabeth reminisced about her days as a midwife, when every visit brought a unique story, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. No one could predict how long labour would last, nor could they be sure of the outcome.
The weight of those moments lingered in her heart, for she faced the bittersweet reality that while many labours resulted in joyous new beginnings, others ended in heartbreak, marking the most harrowing aspect of her noble profession.
Elizabeth added, “I have so many stories to tell you about my life as a midwife, but that’ll have to wait for another day.”
As she recalled her earliest memory of her nursery door, she remembered how it was always left slightly ajar, allowing a gentle stream of light to filter in, casting a warm glow that wrapped around her like a comforting embrace. This luminous entryway served as a guardian, ensuring safety and tranquillity through the dark hours of the night.
Her bedroom, a whimsical sanctuary of imagination, was filled with cherished dolls and beloved toys, each one contributing to an ambience that made Elizabeth feel uniquely special and cocooned in security.
Life, she mused, is a journey of opening and closing doors.
It was on one sun-drenched summer evening that she and her dear friend Gwen ventured out to the inviting Saturday night dance, where the air was thick with laughter and music. There, amidst the twinkling lights and swirling skirts, she encountered her first love, Richard.
He was a compelling figure, exuding confidence with every polished gesture. His charm and striking good looks instantly captivated Elizabeth’s heart. From that moment, she was completely smitten, lost in the exhilarating enchantment of new affection.
Unbeknownst to her, the whirlwind romance that swept her off her feet would lead to a marriage that turned sour. Initially blinded by love’s intoxicating glow, she married him, imagining a future filled with joy and companionship. However, it was not long before the darkness crept in. The transformation from a charming partner to a man consumed by violent, aggressive outbursts began to unfold, often triggered by his return from yet another night of heavy drinking.
With each confrontation, her heart grew heavier, caught in a cycle of fear and heartache. The day she chose to close the door on that unhealthy and damaging marriage became a crucial moment in her life — a decision that was both agonising and liberating, marking the beginning of her journey towards healing and self-discovery.
Elizabeth often recalled her mother’s wise words: “When one door closes, another opens.” It was in that moment of reflection that she made the pivotal decision to train as a midwife, igniting a transformation in her life that she never anticipated.
The phrase “opening and closing doors” soon became a powerful metaphor for the multitude of opportunities that lay ahead. Among them was her chance encounter with Jeff, a kind-hearted man who would become her steadfast companion and share countless cherished moments. Together, they crossed the threshold into a life filled with love and laughter, as he carried her over the doorframe of their cosy home — one that eventually embraced the joy of their two sons and the laughter of five grandchildren.
As the years passed, that same door, once a symbol of new beginnings, marked the bittersweet conclusion of her journey with Jeff when he passed away, leaving a void in her heart.
When she later moved into residential care, she could only look back at the threshold that had witnessed both the vibrant celebrations of life and the poignant end of an era. Elizabeth shared her feelings about her current living situation, describing it not as a home but rather a place where she would reside until the end of her journey.
It was clear that she had grappled with the reality that her life would never again hold the same warmth and familiarity. The countless doors she had opened and closed throughout her life weighed on her, but amid that sorrow, she clung to a hopeful thought: when her time came, she hoped to be welcomed through the Pearly Gates — a symbol of peace and acceptance.
I was by her side that evening when she took her last breath. With the delicate strength that defined her, she urged me to go, reminding me gently to close the door behind me.
“Go and open as many new doors as you can,” she said, her eyes lighting up with a tender smile that belied the pain she was in. As she squeezed my hand one last time, it felt like a gentle affirmation of love and encouragement. In that serene moment, she closed her eyes, and I knew she had found her peace, leaving behind a legacy of warmth and inspiration.
That was so beautiful and Elizabeth sounded such a kind caring person. It must have been a privilege to share her last moments with her, despite the sadness. What memories she had and watching Call the Midwife was so poignant for her. Loved her story.
A lovely story. So well written. I thought it captured the essence of a person at peace with what had happened to her as well as the contribution she had made to the world.
The metaphor of “opening doors” is one we should all hold dear.
I really appreciate the concept of her passing is yet another door that is opening. So peaceful and calm.