Bayswater Village Bloemfontein

18/12/2025

What a year, the Afrikaans Bible Study enjoyed their last session yesterday (Wednesday), thank you to Sister Annalie for taking the time every Wednesday to give the Bible Study, we are very blessed.

17/12/2025

Friday morning was amazing. We had a wonderful birthday party for our residents who celebrated from September - December. We were also privileged to have Eugene singing such wonderful Christmas songs for our residents. We would also like to thank Treat Wise for the wonderful food, our residents loved every single bite. Thank you to everyone for making this day so special.

09/12/2025

A big thank you to Kind2Hearing for a wonderful morning of Christmas Bingo, it was absolutely fantastic.

08/12/2025

28/11/2025

We had so much fun this morning, coming together and creating some Christmas decorations. It was thoroughly enjoyed and saw some lovely creative sides emerge. Thank you to all the ladies for your wonderful creative chains.

14/11/2025

BWV - 40th Anniversay. In the early 80's the need was felt for the establishment in Bloemfontein for a retirement village. Methodist Homes for the Aged in JHB and Parys provided a model for the establishment of Bayswater Village. A planning committee went to work. The initial village that opened towards the end of 1985 consisted of 6 privately owned cottages, 8 rented flats and 12 rented rooms - each with its own little bathroom! A frail care facility with just 12 beds was also part of the village. Rev. David Young who lived in one of the cottages, also visited the frail care every morning to pray with the residents and cheer them up. The gardens have always added to the beauty of the Village. Noleen Uys and Ann Pienaar have given their dedication, skills and expertise in establishing the gardens.
On this 40th anniversary, we look back with graitude on the caring services that have been provided for so many residents throughout the years.

13/11/2025

After 21 years of marriage, my wife surprised me with an unexpected suggestion.
“I want you to take another woman out for dinner and a movie,” she said with a soft smile. “I love you, but I think there’s someone else who would love to spend some time with you.”
I stared at her, confused, until she clarified. She was talking about my mother.
My mom had been a widow for 19 years. Between work and raising our three kids, I hadn’t been able to visit her as much as I wanted. My wife’s suggestion tugged at my heart, so that night, I picked up the phone and called my mom.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. Late-night calls were rare.
“Everything’s fine,” I said. “I just thought it’d be nice for the two of us to have dinner and maybe see a movie.”
After a brief pause, she replied, “I’d like that very much.”
That Friday, as I pulled up to her house, I felt both nervous and excited. When she opened the door, I was stunned. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress she’d last worn for her wedding anniversary. She looked radiant, her face glowing with a smile that could light up the darkest room.
As she got into the car, she said, “I told my friends I was going out with my son tonight, and they were all so impressed. They can’t wait to hear about it.”
We went to a cozy little restaurant—not fancy, but warm and inviting. My mother held my arm as though she were royalty, and I didn’t mind one bit.
After we sat down, I read the menu aloud since her eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. She smiled nostalgically. “I used to read the menu for you when you were little,” she said.
I chuckled. “Then tonight, let me return the favor.”
We spent the evening talking—not about anything important, just sharing stories and laughter. Before we knew it, time had slipped away, and we had missed the movie.
When I dropped her off at home, she hugged me tightly and said, “I’d love to do this again. But next time, it’s my treat.”
I smiled and promised her we would.
When I got home, my wife asked, “How was your evening with Mom?”
“It was better than I could have imagined,” I said, feeling deeply grateful for the time we’d spent together.
A few days later, my mother passed away suddenly from a heart attack. The news shattered me. I hadn’t been ready to say goodbye.
Not long after, I received an envelope in the mail. Inside was a receipt from the restaurant where we’d had dinner, along with a note from my mother.
It read:
“I paid for our dinner in advance, just in case I couldn’t be there. I paid for two meals—one for you and one for your wife. You’ll never know how much that night meant to me. I love you, my dear son.”
Tears streamed down my face as I realized how much that evening had meant to both of us.
Life is fleeting, and time doesn’t wait for us to say the things that matter. We often believe there will always be more time—until there isn’t.
Don’t wait. Make time for the people you love. Tell them what they mean to you. Because in the end, family is everything, and those moments together are what truly matter.

10/11/2025

We were so blessed on Saturday to have Saints Music Academy perform for our residents. It was so beautiful and a very special morning. Thank you to everyone for this wonderful morning.

04/11/2025

Thank you to our wonderful staff, you are really amazing.

24/10/2025

Thank you to Carmen and her wonderful staff for spoiling the residents this morning. We had a lovely breakfast finshing with a gorgeous muffin and coffee. It was absolutely fantastic.

20/10/2025

We are so grateful to be at Bayswater Village. Today, Mediclinic came to do a wonderful free Heart and Stroke Screening, we would like to take this opportunity to thank Mediclinic and all the staff involved for making this day possible.

16/10/2025

When I first moved out, I called my parents every Sunday. Same time, same number.
Mom would answer on the second ring, already smiling through her voice.
Dad would be in the background shouting, "Tell him the mower's finally working!"
It became our thing - Sunday afternoons, thirty minutes of catching up.
They'd ask if I was eating well.
I'd tell them about work, the apartment, the weather.
Small things, nothing life-changing.
But then life got busy, one Sunday became every other.
Then once a month, then - only when something big happened.
Mom never complained.
She just said, "We know you're busy, sweetheart. Just make sure you're happy."
But "soon" stretched further and further, like a rubber band waiting to snap.
Then one morning, I got a voicemail from Dad. Just his voice, quiet, unsure.
"Hey, kiddo. Haven't heard from you in a while. Your mom made lasagna tonight. Thought of you. No rush - just......we miss your voice."
That message broke me.
I called right back, but they were asleep.
The next morning, Mom answered - cheerful, pretending nothing had changed.
But her voice caught when she said, "Your dad was so happy to hear the phone ring last nigh, he thought it was you."
That night, I decided something - no matter how busy I got, I would never let them wonder if I remembered them.
So I called again, and again, every Sunday.
Sometimes for an hour, sometimes for five minutes.
Even when there was nothing to say - I'd just listen to mom's stories about her garden, to dad complaining about the prices.
To the background hum of their life - the clatter of dishes, the bark of the neighbor's dog, the laughter that still felt like home.
And you know what?
The more I called, the less I needed a reason to.
It wasn't an obligation anymore - it was a rhythm.
A thread that kept us connected across miles and time.
Last Sunday, Dad said something that stopped me
"You know, son, when you were a kid, you'd call me from the backyard just to show me a bug or a rock you found.
Now, I wait for your call on Sundays the same way - not because I need anything.....but because it means you're still there."
I couldn't speak for a moment, all I could do was smile through tears because he was right - sometimes, love isn't about what you say. It's just about being there, even far away.
The Lesson : You don't need a special occasion to call home. Your parents don't need grand gestures - they just need your voice, your time, your prescence. Because one day, their phone won't ring anymore, and you'll wish for just one more Sunday.
So call them, talk about your day, ask about theirs.
Love doesn't keep score - it just keeps waiting for the next ring.