LETTER TO MY COUSIN ON THE DEATH OF HIS MOTHER – MY AUNTY PAT

       NB: * is an explanation to any readers                                     

                                                                                    P.O. Box 256

                                                                                                                                Berry, NSW, 2535

                                                                                                                                Australia.

                                                                                                                                26th November 2012

Darling Michael and Anne,

Thank you so much for letting us know of the passing of your Mum, your darling – and my beloved Aunty Pat.  I can’t tell you how sad I was, and how much I cried for the loss of such a beautiful spirit, such a loving soul, in the world.   She is as shining “Up There” as she was “Down here”, now a star in a wide, black sky – reunited with her childhood and lifelong sweetheart, your Dad, my Uncle Tommy. Also, I know that my Mom and Dad will be with them – quite a ‘knees-up’ to be had, I am sure!  I love that image!

That she died on your Dad’s birthday (*20th September 2012) was not a surprise to me. They were connected, heart, body and soul, and I can just see his dear face light up when his sweetheart joined him!  What is surprising is this beautiful book mark I enclose – bought on your Dad’s birthday (20th September 2012) – in the French Markets, in the French Quarter of New Orleans – “A Mother’s Love”.   The poet who wrote it, signed it, and recited it to me JUST AS A I PASSED … he was a wise and warm black American man.   I had tears rolling down my cheeks, he spoke so lovingly and so compassionately, just the message I needed to hear, as I STILL grieve for my Mom, every day, three years later.  So I bought TWO – one for me, and one to send to Aunty Pat.   Well, who was to know at that VERY DAY? - she was dying, preparing to leave us.

So here it is, Cousin of mine.    I have one – and now, you do too.   If you wish to drop him a line, his name is Charles Garrison, 1017 Fairfax Drive, Gretna, Louisiana, 70056, USA.  He collects postcards from happy customers all over the world and would love to know where his poetry ended up.  I have written to him to tell him of your Mom’s death THE DAY I bought the bookmarks.

She was an exceptional woman, and an extraordinary Mother, who loved deeply, sacrificed much for her kids (*eight of them), yet always found room in her heart, at her table, and in her bed for a lost soul, or a lonely child – like me, at 17, in London, far from home in Africa.   She laughed often, loudly, and had such an irreverent sense of humour!   She was the Matriarch, a small, powerful disciplinarian, few kids were game to take her on …. And few adults would have, either!   She stretched a penny further than anyone I know – and was cheerful, slapping Fate in the Face, with her energy and indefatigability.   Her kitchen was full of chaos – and LOVE – and the food that emerged from there, I can still taste!

 I remember holding hands with her and your Dad, walking home from the “Seven Stars” (*a pub in West Hartlepool that our families attended for decades), feeling completely safe, loved, accepted, and understood.    At 63 years old, I know how rare that is – at 17, I just rejoiced in this large, rambunctious, loud FAMILY!  I remember with happiness sharing a cup of strong tea doused with a large dose of whisky, us girls sharing a ‘naughty but nice’ moment in bed, weighed down with heavy blankets to keep us warm – at 8 am!!

 Her devotion to her husband, her unwavering support of “Her Man”, no matter what, still gives me goosebiumps.   And the ADORED the ground she walked on – (and “They” never wanted to accept him, she was too young, he was too ‘bad’, etc. (*He worked in a travelling fairground so the story went.)   Oh!  How wrong they were!   As a Mother – she had no equal – other than my own Mother. (*Those two were best friends, my Mother married Tom – another Tom – who was Pat’s older brother).  Her pride in her ‘pride of kids’ – her ability to take you down a notch or two whilst still building your confidence, is a magical mystery and an inspiration to me today, with the hundreds of young people I work with.

 And she was NOT a saint.   She got fed up, she questioned God, she was angry with Him at the terrible losses she bore. (*She had many – and heartbreakingly, lost two sons at a young age.   Peter to heart disease and Tommy – the third Tom - died tragically in a work accident in Africa).  She swore.  She got drunk on occasion.  She was sometimes impatient.  Her home was frequently a mess whilst she attended to the IMPORTANT things – like LOVE – and I SO LOVE that!

 So, dear Michael and Anne, thank you for reading this, and for listening.   It’s been cathartic for me – I love to write – and I have felt her presence, close to me, as I have written these words.   God Bless her.

 And God Bless you two.   You were wonderful, caring, generous children who honoured and nurtured and LOVED your Mum, right up till the end. I acknowledge you both, she was blessed to have you.  Your hearts will hurt and you will cry for as long as it takes – know that I think of you, I trust you will  heal, and know that her love will NEVER leave you.

 Think of them dancing – as I do of my Mom and Dad (somewhere over Africa.)  They lived their lives well, they left a powerful legacy – their children – YOU.   And know they were loved, deeply.  They made a difference.

 And you are their SON! 

How sweet is that?

I love you, Cousin –

Sandra, Gerald and Joshua xxx