She grew up in England during the Depression and the war. So did a lot of people.
RN, midwife in Belfast, surgical nurse.
Wife, mother, army wife for a while, immigrant. My parents went through difficult patches in their marriage - it's not uncommon. My father was a camera buff, and I recently came across some old 8mm film he made early in their marriage. He's filming in the back garden and he catches sight of her through the window - she doesn't notice him. The way the camera watches her - she's about 23 or 24 - you can feel the love. Speaking to him a couple of days ago, I wasn't as surprised to hear him cry for the first time in my life.
Founder of a couple of charities which she ran with a desk and telephone in our basement - which today have several employees and budgets and grants and such. One of them brought classical musicians to tiny remote villages where children (and their parents) could see and hear them for a two bits. She was especially proud of that one.
Chairman of the school board for many years - diocesan council. She was invited to run for Parliament and there was talk of a Senate appointment, but by then she was no longer interested. Her bones started turning to powder in her mid-40's and she had her first hip replacement in her early 50's.
Nobody threw a better party. Nobody made a better trifle or Christmas pudding.
Most of all she raised children who weren't afraid to try. The funeral is delayed while we gather - one daughter from Cairo, one from Ireland, a son from Australia. One daughter is a judge who flies into remote communities - one does something mysterious for the British consulate - one is a writer and artist. It was hard to make her angry, but once she was you learned very quickly to never, ever do that again.
She went quickly. She had a horror of lingering on the edge of death, spending her last months gasping for breath in a hospital. In the end, she managed to cut that to a couple of hours. Good for her.
