laudate matertera
I've not written for a few weeks due to bereavement and other commitments. We said goodbye to my wee Auntie today. I'll miss her a lot. These were my thoughts at the service.
If someone had met my Aunt Irene for the first time, they might be forgiven for thinking that just because she was under 5ft tall, she was small.
But she was not.
She had a large heart.
A big personality.
A healthy appetite
Great generosity
An enormous sense of humour and
a HUGE amount of stubborn determination.
She had that humour, personality and determination right up to the end.
On the Monday, when the Doctors told her she was going to die in the next one or two days, and asked if she was ready to go - she said No!, stuck her tongue out at them and lived for another week- I think probably just to show them they couldn't tell her what to do.
When she was in Palliative care, and they asked if she wanted water or tea, she said
‘have you no prosecco?’
When they asked if she wanted a minister, she said -
‘No… sure he’d only tell me how wicked I was!’
That is a taste of her sense of humour. We had a similar sense of humour. That’s why I got on so well with her. We’d often have a giggle at something she’d said; normally to a salesperson or official who either didn't get the joke or, more likely, didn't quite appreciate it.
I'm very proud of My Aunt Irene.
Eric was the love of her life, and they were inseparable. They were so kind and loving to my Sister and I as children, and we rarely saw one without the other: So I am especially proud of how well she coped on her own in the 13 years since his passing; how fiercely independent she remained, retaking driving lessons, and taking on car and house maintenance and I’m sure another thousand things.
She was independent, and so I'm grateful that she was able to stay living in their house. I think it would have hurt her more than anything to have to leave her and Eric's house, just as she never wanted to drive any other car than ‘Eric’s’ car.
There are a number of things I think we can be grateful for.
I'm grateful that she had such good neighbours, past and present.
Some were longstanding friends- she was the last remaining original occupant of the cul-de-sac - so she saw you all move in! And the kindness of newer neighbours, even something as simple as taking her bins in and out of her drive: it takes a moment when you are young and fit, but it made a huge difference to her and she truly appreciated it.
I’d often hear about when she had a conversation over a fence, or someone had borrowed or lent her a book, or brought round food when she was unwell, or just waved and smiled walkng past: It was a comfort to me to feel she wasn’t isolated, but but was part of a kind community.
I'm very grateful she had such good friends, some she kept in touch with still in Northern Ireland, or across the country now, who haven't been able to make it today but have passed on their condolences. And I’m especially grateful to M___& and M___ who were so close to her, and who have done so much.
I'm grateful to have had her in our lives so long.
I’m grateful for that last week with her: Although it was only one week out of 91 years that she filled to the full, because of her determination and strength she was able to see friends and family, and we were able to speak frankly and pragmatically about the arrangements for today, so it's comforting to me that I know the readings, the music, are exactly what she wanted, and I would like to thank Minister Drain, who had spoken at Eric's funeral, for being available.
The meaning of the name Irene comes from the ancient Greek for ‘Peace’, and I'm grateful that she passed away peacefully, she was not in any pain or distress. And is at peace now.
But one of the final things she said, was that she would miss us all, so much.
I know we will all miss her too.
