This is a story that I hadn’t shared online.  After so many years, I shared it for the first time on Manifesting Excellence last week (and thanks to the comments I received there it made me think that this story might be valued on a wider scale also).

This is dear to my heart and I share it with the intention that you take inspiration from it and it benefits you and those close to you…

Last Thursday I called a nursing home to ask about the condition of a “Mrs Jacobs”. I was told she is now bed-ridden and doesn’t eat very much. She has Parkinsons.  It is her 95th birthday tomorrow (Monday) and I sent her a letter and card a few days ago.

I have written to her every birthday and every Christmas for around 35 years… her and I have been in touch for over 35 years at every birthday and every Christmas, without fail.

She was born in 1919 and turned 95 today.


I will start from the beginning…

When we came to this country (England) in the 70s Mrs (Kathleen) Jacobs helped teach my mum English.  I was tiny at the time.  Her and her husband then moved away to Dorset, in the UK.

But she would be in touch with me… every birthday of mine and every Christmas, and often with a letter.  When I was old enough, I would do the same.  And usually I would write a letter to let her know how I was doing.

In the 1990s her husband and her were both moved into a nursing home.  Then her husband died, he’d had Parkinson’s, and she had it too.  I carried on being in touch with Mrs Jacobs.

Around 10 or so years ago I hadn’t received a birthday card so I called her nursing home to check she was ok.  She was disappointed that she had forgotten and the next day a card landed on my doorstep.

Within a few years I noticed that her handwriting on the envelope and card was getting more scribbly and it must have been taking much more effort.  A few years later I noticed I didn’t receive a card.  I thought to myself that this time would come and I hoped she was ok and I would still be in touch with her every birthday and every Christmas and carried on doing so, and I would at times call the nursing home to check how she was.

Her hearing had also been going and so she couldn’t hear on the phone and maybe she found it distressing not to be able to hear someone so I wouldn’t call her but would call the nurses and speak to them and still write to Mrs Jacobs.

When I have written to her I would type my letters and put them in a large font so they were easier to read if she read them herself, or if a nurse read them to her, and I would sign them.

I called the nursing home last year and they said to me that she was keeping active and doing various classes at the home.

A few years ago my mum and middle brother went to see her in Dorset and she seemed to think my middle brother was me.  My mum said she barely remembered them and her awareness was fleeting.

I called the nursing home last Thursday and spoke to a nurse who said to me that Mrs Jacobs was now bed-ridden.

She doesn’t eat much, mainly her medication for Parkinsons.  The Parkinsons has had a degenerative effect on her muscles, hence she is bed-ridden.

I asked if she had any family and I was told she had two sons, one had moved abroad.  I asked if anyone was in touch with her and the nurse told me that it was just her other son and me.

The nurse said they had seen my cards and letters to Mrs Jacobs and so were comfortable in sharing confidential information about her health with me as she would want that.

I told the nurse more about the background that Mrs Jacobs and I had been in touch for over 35 years and she was astonished and thought it was beautiful.

Tomorrow is Mrs Jacob’s birthday Happy 95th Birthday, Mrs Jacobs.  Tomorrow, more people (by virtue of me sharing this story) will know of your birthday than ever before, ironically at a time when you are more bed-ridden than ever.


My intention though is that I hope you reading this can take inspiration from it and connect with someone that YOU care about 

With much love,



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