John and Tina’s love story spanned nearly four decades – a lifetime built by laughter, shared dreams, and unwavering devotion. From the moment they met as students, John adored Tina. She was, in his words, his “angel,” and he has remained committed to her heart and soul ever since.
In 2014, everything changed. “It started with a cough,” says John. “It got gradually worse when we were on holiday with our family. She didn’t want any fuss, so she was probably diagnosed later than it might’ve been.” A trip to the doctor led to a devastating diagnosis: stomach cancer. Tina faced three rounds of chemotherapy with courage. But eventually, they were given the news that no one is ready to hear.
“When we knew the treatment wasn’t working and when we knew that what she had was terminal, that night, she woke me up around two o’clock in the morning.” During the long nights of her illness, they’d created a small tea station in their bedroom. It became a quiet place for companionship in the dark hours – a sanctuary where pain could be softened by conversation and shared cups of tea.
She said, 'When I'm dead, don't forget me.'"John
He didn’t know how to answer at first. But he made a promise: he would always remember her.
The Meeting
John met Tina when they were eighteen and nineteen respectively, students at college in Birmingham. It all began at a party, where Tina immediately caught his eye. They shared mutual friends, and spent some time together, but John couldn’t work up the courage to ask her out.
I was a glasses-wearing history nerd, so I worried she might think, god, he’s boring.”John
But one evening, their friends decided to play matchmaker. John was told someone wanted to see him in the upper common room. Tina had been told the same thing. When they arrived, the common room was empty but for them – it had been cleared deliberately.
Embarrassed but amused, they devised a cheeky ‘exit strategy’ so they wouldn’t disappoint their well-meaning matchmakers. “We came to the conclusion that they’d worked so hard to get us together that we had to kiss, just once.
“I remember the first kiss, even though it was all that time ago. I was so nervous, and it was so nice, that I kept thinking, what do I say after I come out of this kiss? All I could come up with was a line from an old sci-fi film: nice, or nasty? And I said that, as dramatically as I could.
“She didn’t even open her eyes. She just pulled me in for another kiss.”
In that moment, something shifted.
It was odd – I’d kissed girls before – but I’d never kissed a girl with the result that the room vanished, the college vanished, the planet Earth vanished, and it was just me, and her, and that kiss.”John
Barry Island
Just five weeks into their relationship, John and Tina signed up for a college day trip to Barry Island. For John, it felt like a milestone. “It dawned on me that this was going to be the longest time I’d ever spent with Tina.”
Determined to impress, he crafted a careful plan. They would explore the town, walk by the sea, paddle in the shallows. Then they would meet up with friends to keep things relaxed.
But the plan never quite unfolded that way.
“We never met up with the others,” he said, laughing softly at the memory. “We just stayed together. I was amazed – she turned up with this wicker basket, and inside was a picnic with oranges and jelly. Not exactly your typical 1960s student lunch, but apparently it was just what her mum always packed.”
As the day drew to a close, they found themselves perched on a clifftop, the sea spread wide beneath them, the last of the picnic between them.
I remember thinking, This is fantastic. If this is what life with her is going to be like… I wouldn’t mind sharing it.”John
Paris
It was July 1969, the end of term. Tina had left for her Paris exchange. John was worried, “I was convinced some charming French guy would sweep her off her feet, and that would be that.”
He waited nervously for a letter, determined not to write first and risk embarrassing or pressuring Tina. “She got there on October 1st. By day seven, it simply dawned on me that she’d found a new guy.”
“But on the 10th, I got a letter, postmarked the day after she arrived, just cheery. And at the end she said, ‘I love you.’ “
The very next day, another letter came – one that the couple would laugh about years later as ‘Tina’s Desperate Letter.’ “She asked why I hadn’t written and if she had said or done something to upset me. And then she said – all of the other girls have had letters from home – well, not that many really, because there’s a postal strike.”
A postal strike! Without a passport, John couldn’t be the knight in shining armour that he’d like to be by hopping on a train to Paris – but he could send a telegram. He wrote, “Received first letter 10th. Stop. Replied same day. Stop. Received second letter 11th. Stop. I love you, everything is going to be fine.”
And that was it. After that, we knew something was happening."John
Hard Truths
John came from a tough background. He grew up in Sunderland, the eldest of six children. “My dad was a heavy drinker, and he’d shout and moan and upset the kids a lot. But Tina’s mum and dad had the perfect marriage, and she lived in this little village. She was middle class, she had a lovely life.” John felt that he and Tina came from different worlds.
“After Tina came back from Paris, she kept asking when she was going to come up and meet my parents. But I’d had letter from my little brother, who was about nine at the time, and he told me that my mum had said that she was going to get divorced from dad. She’d had enough.”
John was afraid to tell Tina about this. “I just thought the last thing that this lovely girl is going to want is to be dragged into the chaos that is my family life.” But his good friend, John, encouraged him that Tina would take it well.
“So that night, we were in the common room, and I told her. She just put her arms around me and held me. Not the kiss, not the passion, just held me. I remember leaning my head on her shoulder and thinking, don’t you cry, you big lump. You are male. You are from Sunderland. She just sat me down and talked me all through it.”
This was a gorgeous, gorgeous girl that I was trying to impress, and I just hadn’t realised how gorgeous she actually was.”John
The Hospice
Decades later, after Tina’s diagnosis, John remembers the day that the hospice called. “I saw panic in her eyes, but she agreed to speak to them. I gave her the phone and she stood there chatting away the way she would chat to a friend.
“I was waiting for her to turn around and burst out crying. But she didn’t. The lady on the phone had managed to take somebody on the borderline of panic, and just calm her down.”
The first day at the hospice was like nothing John had expected. “Tina bounded in. She met the group in the Sunflower Centre, chatted to some of the clinicians. When I came to pick her up, all I could hear was laughter. It just wasn’t what I expected at all.
“On the way home, she was telling me about the others in the group, what they’d been doing. And then she came back every other week to do activities. She loved the paints, the craftwork, the gossip.”
You could see the dark shadow on her shoulder was lifted off.”John
Her final day
Tina’s final day was quiet and peaceful, her symptoms managed by the hospice, who had ensured she could stay at home as she wanted. Their daughter Juliet had stayed the night before, taking the night shift so John could rest.
At about 10, John made her a cup of tea, just as he always had. As she took a small sip, her words came softly. “I don’t think I can take much more of this, John darling.” He reassured her that it was alright – she could have a nap, and they’d wake her later.
Around two o’clock, Juliet woke from her rest. She went to make some tea, so that Tina could take her tablets. “Juliet went downstairs,” John recalled, “and I was sitting in a chair next to the bed. I could hear Tina’s laboured breathing.”
He heard the soft clinking of cups downstairs, then the kitchen door opening. “So, I got up and went over to open the bedroom door, assuming Juliet would be carrying a tray.”
But when John reached the end of the bed, a stillness settled in the room.
Something struck me. Something had stopped.”John
The room was quiet, and Tina was no longer breathing. “I remember the silliest thing, because I knew that nurses and doctors would look at their watch. So, I looked at the watch, and it was 2:06 pm.” He checked her breathing. He checked her pulse.
No struggle. No fear. “I remember thinking how peaceful it had been, and being thankful for that.” He pauses. “If it had to be, that was the way Tina would have wanted it.”
The Memory Tree
In order to fulfil my promise to her, I look for as many ways as possible to remember her. The Memory Tree was the root and branch of that.”John
Since Tina’s death, John has made it his mission to honour her memory. “She died when I was 67; I’m now 74. I was always worried that as my brain started corroding, I would start forgetting her. So it was important to plant memory flags – and the tree was one of the first.” A seat at the Octagon theatre, family fundraisers, and songs sung over her grave are some of many other acts of remembrance.
John smiles when he talks about the Memory Tree.
You’re lucky that I’m not here every day to take a new photograph. It’s the way that this place not only cared for Tina, but helps me remember her. Because she was always happy here. And since the tree, remembering has not been a problem.”John
The Memory Tree
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