176: Obituary - my lovely cousin

 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.