Myfanwy struggled with life at every turn, so this is not a eulogy of exciting events and happy days, of blissful childhood memories and stories of great achievements; but it is one of perseverance and courage which Kelly needed every day just to survive. And it is a story of single-minded determination which she showed right to the end. Kelly’s beautiful, indomitable smile, evident in so many of her pictures, masked her troubled soul.
Myfanwy Adams was born in West Wales on February 13th 1961. Myfanwy said that her mother often told her that she had been a mistake and that Myfanwy had caused the stroke her mother suffered shortly after she had given birth to Myfanwy. It was her mother’s stroke that resulted in Myfanwy being raised by relatives for the first two years of her life. Myfanwy always felt that her parents had only grudgingly accepted her home when her mother was finally well enough to look after her.
Myfanwy described a loveless childhood with a mother who resented her and a father who suffered deep depression and who spent long periods in psychiatric care. Her older brother, Mike escaped the family home at the earliest opportunity and her sister Maureen married and moved abroad. So, through her early teenage years Myfanwy found herself coping alone.
She did have a couple of very good school friends, in particular, Sharon, whom she often spoke about. Their memory was a life-long source of support.
At age 17 she left to join the army. She often recounted the fear and loneliness of that first train journey which she survived only through the kindness of an elderly lady who took her under her wing and made sure she arrived safely.
For Myfanwy, army life was a bitter-sweet experience. She gained a measure of self-worth by being appointed driver to a Brigadier: a job she took great pride in and clearly loved. But the jibes and bullying from her more streetwise peers caused her a lot of misery – particularly the jokes made about her name. In an attempt to make friends and connect more easily, Myfanwy changed her name by deed poll to Kelly. Of course, it made little difference.
There were some good times too: Kelly described some hectic discos in Guildford and some fairly wild parties in Catterick and Salisbury. Kelly loved to dance when she was younger; she seemed to be able to forget herself and just dance for joy.
The army was where she met her first husband, Brian. It was a marriage that survived the separation of army life, but not the reality of living together. He left one day without warning, for no reason that Kelly could understand – that question “why?” haunted her for the rest of her life. Notes in her diary around this time expressed the bewilderment and despair she felt at his departure and, ominously, a desire to end her life.
Kelly trained as a secretary and continued to work in the London area after she left the army. Here she met Gretta who helped Kelly through her divorce and became a dear friend, although inevitably she saw less of her as the years progressed. Ann was also a good friend at that time.
When her job in London ended, Wales called again and Kelly moved to Cardiff where her sister, Mo now lived. She bought a run-down, two-bed flat on the third floor at Llanedeyrn, which Mo and husband, Tom laboured in to make habitable for her. She found a job at Philips Telecom as a secretary. I was the manager that employed her, but had little idea then that I would marry her some years later.
As many employers have found often since, Kelly’s enormous asset was her attention to detail. I knew that if she said she would do it, she could be relied upon absolutely. She gained enormous respect across the wider company for her professionalism and she enjoyed the attention. But, as always, more meaningful, personal relationships eluded her. I knew that she felt rather isolated and alone and she continued, despite the accolades, to suffer from very low self-esteem.
I had little contact with her for two years when I moved to Coventry, but I returned to Cardiff and our relationship grew closer. I became aware of what others seemed to miss: Kelly was hiding a caring, empathic personality with a wickedly ironic sense of humour. She just needed someone to care. I found that I did.
Shortly after we got together her father died. Her mother also became critically ill and we made a number of visits to her bedside. On the last of these, just before she died, Kelly moved to take her mother’s hand to comfort her, but her mother recoiled and asked her to leave. The effect on Kelly was profound. Both her parents were buried on the same day.
After a short period I shared her flat and we started talking about making a life together. But when the Cardiff office closed and I moved to the Bristol Office, it was a long and difficult decision for her whether or not to give up her independence and join me. Could she really have a happy life? Eventually she was persuaded and we moved into our new home in Puxton. Kelly became Admin Supervisor at the new office. She did the job impeccably, but that old lack of confidence surfaced again and she found the pressure too great; eventually she resigned.
There followed a number of temporary jobs which made her increasingly stressed until she found a role as secretary in the legal department at Orange. She got on OK with the people here but there was one shining light who managed to rediscover some of that old fun and vivacity – Lisa! Kelly regarded her as a good friend and for a number of months Kelly was happy again.
Then, as so often in Kelly’s life, things changed. Her boss left and was replaced by a particularly unpleasant individual. Whilst others might simply have ridden the storm, Kelly just couldn’t. Soon there was no choice for her but to leave.
It wasn’t long after that that our daughter Petra appeared on the horizon and we decided to make our relationship official – an idea we both found slightly amusing since we had already made the commitment to each other, but we felt we should secure the legalities for our children. Nevertheless we had an enjoyable hot August day with a home reception attended by my sister and family, Kelly’s sister and family, neighbours, friends and, of course, Lisa.
Rather than go back to work, Kelly started a secretarial business at home which kept her hand in and retained some of that all-important independence. Philips closed and I started also to work from home.
When Petra arrived – and Paul 13 months later – Kelly threw herself into motherhood. She took them to playschool every weekday and sought to ensure that they engaged with their peers and found meaningful friendships in a way that she herself had found so hard. Kelly loved our children and she did all she could for them. Yet two days before she died, she told me that she thought she had failed to express her love for them – she could do the practical things, but could never quite make the emotional connections she yearned. She didn’t know how.
As the children grew up it was clear that this feeling was affecting their relationship. Kelly began to rely on drink to drown her misery. We moved to Ranby, Lincolnshire following my work and Kelly got a job at Louth Hospital. She found it hard to deal with the cycle of feast and famine that is self-employment and that began to affect our relationship.
During this time, and for the rest of her life, Kelly sought the assistance of various counsellors and mental health “professionals”. Not one of them helped in any way at all.
On the day that Kelly died, she had visited the mental health “team” at Lincoln who said, according to her that evening, that she was making good progress. Kelly held these people in contempt for their complete lack of understanding, care and professionalism, but kept going in the hope that one day she would meet someone competent. That there was no condemnation of them at her inquest is utterly unacceptable and makes a mockery of the “system”.
In an effort to create a fresh start we moved again to South Cockerington. We hoped that being closer to their new schools would make it easier for Petra and Paul and it meant that Kelly had only a 10 minute journey to work. But, almost immediately, she lost her job at the hospital and my hope that she would find some of her old spirit was dashed.
Kelly got another job at New Linx but struggled with relationships there. Her drinking got worse, she increasingly lost touch with reality and became difficult to cope with. When it was clear that the situation was affecting the children I suggested to her that we separate for a while. Her reaction resulted in involvement from Police and Social Services and she was forced to live apart from us for six months. She always held me responsible for that. Eventually, unable to control her drinking, Kelly decided to make the separation permanent and she divorced me.
During the four and a half years that followed, as we tried to sell the house, she was living in dreadful, damp, rented accommodation (all she could find that would accept her golden retriever, Simba) and removed from her children. It must have been a living hell for Kelly, particularly when in 2012, Simba died, leaving her utterly alone. As I drove her home from the vet, her silent despair was palpable. It is a testament to her determination that she got through it; still hoping for a better future.
Kelly was grateful for her brother, Mike who visited her from Canada and gave her assistance and support. The effort he made meant a lot. Andrea also looked out for Kelly during that time.
Petra and I maintained contact with her and she visited us on a number of occasions, but her desire to feel that all-encompassing love that a child has the right to feel from a mother, but that was always denied to Kelly, led her to make greater and greater demands on everyone around her and, as so many times before, she felt utterly isolated. It seemed that whatever anyone did for her it could never be enough to overcome the feelings of betrayal that she felt about almost every relationship in her life.
She kept going in the hope that owning her own home again would bring her the feeling of security she craved, but New Linx closed and she was forced to find yet another temporary job at Lincolnshire Council. Another blow! Clearly, after only 11 months in her new house, she had given up.
At the end Kelly said that it was really only Sally that had continued to care. I know that wasn’t true, but I am very grateful that Kelly felt there was someone, at least, who had not abandoned her.
On Monday night 14th July after, it now seems, some detailed and long-term planning, she used a rope to take her own life. It was just her final act of courage, independence, determination and despair.
Kelly remains the only love of my life. She is now, at last, at peace.
Myfanwy’s Life
Myfanwy struggled with life at every turn, so this is not a eulogy of exciting events and happy days, of blissful childh
ood memories and stories of great achievements; but it is one of perseverance and courage which Kelly needed every day just to survive. And it is a story of single-minded determination which she showed right to the end. Kelly’s beautiful, indomitable smile, evident in so many of her pictures, masked her troubled soul.
Myfanwy Adams was born in West Wales on February 13th 1961. Myfanwy said that her mother often told her that she had been a mistake and that Myfanwy had caused the stroke her mother suffered shortly after she had given birth to Myfanwy. It was her mother’s stroke that resulted in Myfanwy being raised by relatives for the first two years of her life. Myfanwy always felt that her parents had only grudgingly
accepted her home when her mother was finally well enough to look after her.
Myfanwy described a loveless childhood with a mother who resented her and a father who suffered deep depression and who spent long periods in psychiatric care. Her older brother, Mike escaped the family home at the earliest opportunity and her sister Maureen married and moved abroad. So, through her early teenage years Myfanwy found herself coping alone.
She did have a couple of very good school friends, in particular, Sharon, whom she often spoke about. Their memory was a life-long source of support.
At age 17 she left to join the army. She often recounted the fear and loneliness of that first train journey which she survived only through the kindness of an elderly lady who took her under her wing and made sure she arrived safely.
For Myfanwy, army life was a bitter-sweet experience. She gained a measure of self-worth by being appointed driver to a Brigadier: a job she took great pride in and clearly loved. But the jibes and bullying from her more streetwise peers caused her a lot of misery – particularly the jokes made about her name. In an attempt to make friends and connect more easily, Myfanwy changed her name by deed poll to Kelly. Of course, it made little difference.
The army was where she met her first husband, Brian. It was a marriage that survived the separation of army life, but not the reality of living together. He left one day without warning, for no reason that Kelly could understand – that question “why?” haunted her for the rest of her life. Notes in her diary around this time expressed the bewilderment and despair she felt at his departure and, ominously, a desire to end her life.
Kelly trained as a secretary and continued to work in the London area after she left the army. Here she met Gretta who helped Kelly through her divorce and became a dear friend, although inevitably she saw less of her as the years progressed. Ann was also a good friend at that time.
When her job in London ended, Wales called again and Kelly moved to Cardiff where her sister, Mo now lived. She bought a run-down, two-bed flat on the third floor at Llanedeyrn, which Mo and husband, Tom laboured in to make habitable for her. She found a job at Philips Telecom as a secretary. I was the manager that employed her, but had little idea then that I would marry her some years later.
As many employers have found often since, Kelly’s enormous asset was her attention to detail. I knew that if she said she would do it, she could be relied upon absolutely. She gained enormous respect across the wider company for her professionalism and she enjoyed the attention. But, as always, more meaningful, personal relationships eluded her. I knew that she felt rather isolated and alone and she continued, despite the accolades, to suffer from very low self-esteem.
I had little contact with her for two years when I moved to Coventry, but I returned to Cardiff and our relationship grew closer. I became aware of what others seemed to miss: Kelly was hiding a caring, empathic personality with a wickedly ironic sense of humour. She just needed someone to care. I found that I did.
Shortly after we got together her father died. Her mother also became critically ill and we made a number of visits to her bedside. On the last of these, just before she died, Kelly moved to take her mother’s hand to comfort her, but her mother recoiled and asked her to leave. The effect on Kelly was profound. Both her parents were buried on the same day.
There followed a number of temporary jobs which made her increasingly stressed until she found a role as secretary in the legal department at Orange. She got on OK with the people here but there was one shining light who managed to rediscover some of that old fun and vivacity – Lisa! Kelly regarded her as a good friend and for a number of months Kelly was happy again.
It wasn’t long after that that our daughter Petra appeared on the horizon and we decided to make our relationship official – an idea we both found slightly amusing since we had already made the commitment to each other, but we felt we should secure the legalities for our children. Nevertheless we had an enjoyable hot August day with a home reception attended by my sister and family, Kelly’s sister and family, neighbours, friends and, of course, Lisa.
Rather than go back to work, Kelly started a secretarial business at home which kept her hand in and retained some of that all-important independence. Philips closed and I started also to work from home.
As the children grew up it was clear that this feeling was affecting their relationship. Kelly began to rely on drink to drown her misery. We moved to Ranby, Lincolnshire following my work and Kelly got a job at Louth Hospital. She found it hard to deal with the cycle of feast and famine that is self-employment and that began to affect our relationship.
During this time, and for the rest of her life, Kelly sought the assistance of various counsellors and mental health “professionals”. Not one of them helped in any way at all.
Kelly got another job at New Linx but struggled with relationships there. Her drinking got worse, she increasingly lost touch with reality and became difficult to cope with. When it was clear that the situation was affecting the children I suggested to her that we separate for a while. Her reaction resulted in involvement from Police and Social Services and she was forced to live apart from us for six months. She always held me responsible for that. Eventually, unable to control her drinking, Kelly decided to make the separation permanent and she divorced me.
During the four and a half years that followed, as we tried to sell the house, she was living in dreadful, damp, rented accommodation (all she could find that would accept her golden retriever, Simba) and removed from her children. It must have been a living hell for Kelly, particularly when in 2012, Simba died, leaving her utterly alone. As I drove her home from the vet, her silent despair was palpable. It is a testament to her determination that she got through it; still hoping for a better future.
Petra and I maintained contact with her and she visited us on a number of occasions, but her desire to feel that all-encompassing love that a child has the right to feel from a mother, but that was always denied to Kelly, led her to make greater and greater demands on everyone around her and, as so many times before, she felt utterly isolated. It seemed that whatever anyone did for her it could never be enough to overcome the feelings of betrayal that she felt about almost every relationship in her life.
She kept going in the hope that owning her own home again would bring her the feeling of security she craved, but New Linx closed and she was forced to find yet another temporary job at Lincolnshire Council. Another blow! Clearly, after only 11 months in her new house, she had given up.
At the end Kelly said that it was really only Sally that had continued to care. I know that wasn’t true, but I am very grateful that Kelly felt there was someone, at least, who had not abandoned her.
On Monday night 14th July after, it now seems, some detailed and long-term planning, she used a rope to take her own life. It was just her final act of courage, independence, determination and despair.
Kelly remains the only love of my life. She is now, at last, at peace.
Jim Quixley