Eulogy

Well, that was quite a ride.

When I look back at all the things we did, all the things that happened, it’s hard to believe we only had ten short years together. When I moved to New Zealand, the kids were 14, 12 and 10. Now they’re all young adults, embarking on very different studies and careers.

Many of you know Rae and I met online, when she emailed me out of the blue after doing some serious online stalking. I went back and re-read some of those early emails, and they are terrifying. On 14 Aug 2013, she wrote to me:

I grew up in Scotland, the product of a happy marriage with a large Jewish family around me. I went slightly off the rails when my dear dad passed away when I was still a kid. I miss him still. There is so much I would have loved to have shared with him. I doubt he would have approved of some of the choices I have made since his passing. In fact he probably would have tried to stop me from making several key decisions, such as striking up a relationship with the person I eventually married. Truth be told though as I am pretty obstinate I may not have listened. It is quite bizarre that I have lived far longer without him than with him.

I responded with an equally thoughtful, introspective and sympathetic message:

A Scottish lass, no less! Which part? I will admit I prefer Edinburgh to Glasgow, and I haven't visited any other part of Scotland. Of course I love the accent, even if I have no idea what they are saying. Do you know Carol Kirkwood, the BBC weather presenter? For me, she is like porn in the morning. (Did I really just say that?)

The red flags were waving at full mast, but somehow Rae (who was from Glasgow) saw past all of that. I was 44 and never had kids, but somehow Rae fully trusted me with hers. That was Rae in a nutshell: Someone who was always giving, and in doing so could lift those around her. I thought of Rae as a being of pure love, as close to an angel as I can conceive. I am the exact opposite, but Rae inspired me to be a better person. I often said to her, “When I grow up, I want to be just like you.”

I honestly can't remember my life before Rae, and I honestly can’t imagine my life without her. During our cancer journey, everyone worried about me, and I always said that as long as I had Rae, I could do anything. It was when I didn’t have Rae that they should worry.

Last November, for my birthday, Rae gave me this tie, which I thought was odd because I never wear ties anymore. Today she gave me an occasion to wear it and I realise she was, as usual, two steps ahead of me.

To Rae I say, you were amazing, you were intoxicating, your smile lit up my world. I always told you how smart, clever, funny and beautiful you were, and you always argued with me. Well, you can’t argue with me anymore.

To the kids I say, I will never fill Mum’s shoes, but you know that I will always be there for you. I see so much of Mum in each of you, I know you will all be bright lights in this dark world.

To the community I say, I know you only put up with me because I was with Rae, but please try to put up with me for a while longer.

And to God I say, thank you. I don’t know why you chose to take Rae at such a young age, but thank you for letting me be with her at all. Thank you for letting me take care of her when she needed it. Thank you for giving me these wonderful children, my “pop-up family” as Rae called it. Thank you for bringing me to Wellington and this community. Thank you for the medical miracles that kept Rae alive for an extra five years, and thank you for nationalised health care that kept us out of bankruptcy. Rae was a blessing, and even though she is gone, I continue to feel blessed.