At the beginning of May, I received the sad news that I had lost my lovely Auntie Kath. My Mums only sister, and my godmother. Although she was only a tiny 4ft 11 she was such a big influence in my early years, helping to shape the person I am today.

Until we moved to Hastings, when I was eight, we lived around the corner from her and her family. I have so many happy memories of weekends spent at the beach, paddling in the river Lea, in search of tadpoles and going for picnics in the country. I remember one time having to run across a field and jump over the style as a bull charged at us for invading his field 😂.

Once we moved our trips were less frequent, but they often came down to the seaside to see us, mostly for day trips. Auntie Kath enjoyed visiting the Old Town to sample the cockles, whelks and jellied eels.

As I got older and had a family of my own, I didn’t get to see her as often as I should, but we did speak regularly on the phone. She didn’t cope well with new fangled technology, like mobiles, so when my land line rang, it could only be one of two people, my mother in law or Auntie Kath.

Although she was almost 91, losing her still came as a huge shock. She had been a little down when I had spoken to her the previous week to arrange our next visit, so I gave her a call to check on her. Thankfully she was very upbeat and we had one of our usual happy chats, and I left her looking forward to our upcoming visit.

Then out of the blue, it happened, two days later I had a message from my cousin to say Auntie had, had a fall and broken her arm in a couple of places. She would need an operation to set it properly, otherwise she would not regain full use of it. We weren’t unduly concerned, apart from the pain she was in, she was a tough little cookie and had pulled through various operations in recent years. However her heart wasn’t up to the task. She did come through the operation, but was very weak.  When a couple of days later the landline rang and it was my cousin on the other end, she didn’t need to tell me, I knew the flame from our little candle had been snuffed out.

As we ended the call, the tears began to tumble, and my heart felt as though it had snapped in two.  I was so. grateful that we had had that last conversation, that she knew I loved her and she had been happy.

Grief is an unpredictable rollercoaster, one day feeling you shouldn’t be having fun, the next laughing at times you spent with that person. While no one can ever take the love, memories, and experiences you had with that person away from you, in your heart you know that they would want to see you carrying on with life.

It is a gradual journey though, allowing the moments of sadness to escape, whilst cherishing the happy times you spent together. I can’t quite yet bring myself to delete her number from my mobile or erase her name from my address book. The process cannot and should not be rushed. There is no right or wrong way, grief is a very personal thing.

Her cremation took place fairly quickly, with her immediate family present. Having lost her beloved husband 10 years earlier, her only wish was that her final resting place would be with him. As his ashes had not been interned, her wish was easily fulfilled.

Six weeks after her passing, we gathered together at a natural burial wood, for a very personal farewell for two. As their eldest grandchildren lowered their joint casket into the ground, their favourite music filled the air. Two of their granddaughter’s partners read letters that they had written to each other, early in their marriage and which my Auntie had kept in a book close to her bed.

After each of us lowered some soil onto the casket, we scattered wild flower seeds and my cousin placed a lovely plaque to mark their special spot. Their little great grandchildren then released some beautiful butterflies, one immediately landed on my Aunts cousin’s head. Auntie was definitely saying, goodbye, I’m ok, back with my beloved.

A very moving but beautiful day. They now lay together in a glorious spot, looking out over beautiful wild flowers and trees. A perfect resting place.

I still have moments of tears, but I know that although the little candle was extinguished, in my heart I can relight it anytime I choose.

Sweet dreams my little Auntie Kath, together again with lovely Uncle Son

👼