Any attempt to describe the life of Maureen Moore in a few hundred words is inevitably bound to fail ~ its author doomed to appear foolish in the extreme. So here goes!

We now live in a Hi-tech world where a damaged life can be artificially sustained way beyond normal expectations, in the mistaken belief that longevity, and occasionally false hope, far outweigh the ‘Quality of a Life’ ~ Maureen always knew better! Her own life ~ centred on her Family, her Catholicism, her Friends, and a unique sensitivity to the world around her, was an intensely creative life. And unlike my own, and many of her contemporaries ~ whose creative activities are almost inevitably linked to ‘Street performance’ ‘Self-advertising’ and ‘Egocentricity on a Cosmic scale’ ~ Maureen was always deeply respectful of her chosen subject!

Born in Leeds, she studied at Leeds College of Art and was eventually employed as a ‘Fashion Artist’ by several major retail outlets. However in the late sixties we moved to Haworth and opened a gallery at 68 Main Street from which she sold her portraits and landscapes in Europe, the USA and Canada as well as exhibiting at the Mall Galleries in London. Maureen held numerous exhibitions in Halifax and Sowerby Bridge and taught at Adult Education Centres in Halifax, Sowerby Bridge and Bridlington. She was made a Companion of the International Guild of Artists. Unfortunately, both her career and her work as a Secular Franciscan ~ which was so important to her in later years ~ were badly affected by her deteriorating health and in the early 2000s ~ osteoporosis, osteoarthritis, several breakages and minor strokes inevitably took their toll and she bore more than ten years of intense discomfort and total dependence on others with immense dignity and humility. When eventually Maureen was confined to her bed for more than eight months with little hope of recovery, she understandably surrendered to the inevitable!

‘Maureen’s memo’

I have been in bed for over two months growing fatter because I move so little. I arrange things that are sitting on the chest of drawers – this is the only way I can now paint. I look at the shapes and colours, blending colour to go with shapes, my eyes and hands are working together – I cannot re-arrange them – it’s impossible! If only I could push the duvet off my legs so I can walk again and look out of the window, or look into the wardrobe so I could choose something fresh to wear. But I can’t! – I can’t! – I can’t! My husband obeys my whim and re-arranges the plants and photographs on the chest of drawers, he passes me a jar of water and three brushes, I’m going to begin – 

I sigh – I close my eyes – but I can’t find the energy – maybe tomorrow!

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A few hours before she died Maureen asked my daughter to call me to her bedside ~ where ~ overcoming the dulling effects of morphine, she declared quite lucidly “I can’t do this anymore ~ I can’t do this anymore Mac!” and closed her eyes for the final time ~

Ten or eleven hours later ~ my beautiful Maureen passed on!

Unpreparedness, inadequacy and absolute self-interest, summed up my immediate response to Maureen’s death! And for many days I wandered around the home sheathed in self-pity. But, with the help of my son David and my daughter Kerry, I was able to appreciate far more clearly that Maureen ~ the woman I had known and loved for almost sixty years ~ had escaped the intense suffering of recent times, and now lay at peace with her God!