I wrote earlier about the tragic loss of my cousin. She was, by far, my closest 'person' in the family - my supporter, the only one who suggested that I was of some value. I hoped to be and was asked to speak at the funeral.
I was asked
to say a few words and took the precaution of putting them down on paper, as the
awful reality of standing here and having to say them makes it difficult to
focus.
Like many of
you, I imagine, I am expecting Mi. to burst through that door any second. A
little frazzled, probably late – and late because of issues with her hair! But
then that throaty laugh, a hug … and away we go.
I am her
cousin, her brother, as she used to say, and in emails and letters, Goofy to
her Minnie. Though we grew up separated by continents and oceans, I like to
think that we also grew close. I have a bucketful of memories to keep me
smiling but I cannot believe that we will not have the opportunity to make more,
and that we will not share the journey ahead – you always a little in front of
me!
We were
seven or eight and up in the hills north of the capital – a little town. Mi. forced me on to a horse – a horrific experience. She trotted off on
her’s while I lay flat and clung on for dear life – my father running along on
one side and my uncle on the other. Looking back, her father must have been in a
quandary – does he stay with me to stop me falling or go after his daughter who
has disappeared up some by lane in an unknown town! I never forgave her!
Teenage
connection was limited but it all started up again with college and adulthood.
I heard about sororities and sisters and spring break and Daytona. She started
work at the same time as me and I got letters about snowstorms and adverse
weather – which led to higher show ratings!! In the nineties I used to have to
go to Kansas for work, much to the East Coaster’s amusement, and generally
found a reason to stop by here for some critical meeting or other – but
really to spend time with Mi. I visited the TV station and met H.,
spent a Thanksgiving together, often woke up at odd hours as time zones when
calling were never Mi.’s strongpoint!
We travelled together to visit our grandmother. Once, she was fiddling with her
hair and a cabin baggage landed on her finger – rather than her head. We
laughed because a doctor on the plane verified that all was ok but said he was
only a doctor and didn’t know how to make a sling - a nurse usually did that!!
On one of
the visits,, I met W. for the first time. In the two and a half
decades since, I never heard one word of unhappiness with you, W.. She always
spoke about how she had lucked out with you and thanked you for fighting for
her. She spoke so warmly of the wider At. family who provided emotional
support and the sheer physical presence that we could not. I heard about Sh. – her ‘sister’ here. And, of course, her beloved daughters who completed her
and of whom she was so immensely proud.
To them, and the rest of us, a poem by Christina Rosetti:
Remember
Christina Rossetti - 1830-1894
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning
stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or
pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a
while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and
smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
To my friend, my supporter, my confidant, my cousin, my
sister, take good care – I will miss you deeply and remember you always but, in
turn, do not forget me either - we have work to do. Love you.
