I can't take credit for the below post. This was an email sent to me and my family by my mum following the recent death of my Great Aunt Lallie. I just thought this was so wonderfully written, my mum says it all far better than I could.
I was at a "Tai Chi for Horses" clinic today when I got the news about Auntie Lallie. I had spent all morning trying to get my hips to move backwards while getting my weight to move forwards from my ankles so my weight was on the balls of my feet rather than my heels...then I got the call from my cousin Ros and knew right away what it was and climbed over the fence to take the call. I was sadder than I expected, even though I knew it was coming. I was going to have to go and tell my Dad and I went for a cry into the mane of a chestnut horse standing nearby; horses are so much easier to communicate with than people at times like this....
Auntie Lallie was so much larger than her own life and always unexpectedly generous. As Isaac said, you would know her if you saw her now from her 1930's photo on Dad's wall because her face was so full of character. One of Grandad's first memories of her is of a teacher saying "Elspeth is such a rough girl" (or "child", I'm not sure which) I asked him why the teacher said this, he doesn't know. What did she do or say? (Does anyone know now?) I talked Dad through lots of memories, he sang songs he remembered from way back, and reminisced about the family business and his mum and dad, "I'm the last of seven", he said, "five" I prompted, "no seven" he said, "mum and dad count", "of course", I said. But why would anyone have called her rough? If she was, she rose above it and beyond! My early memory of Auntie Lallie was of her telling us about some new neighbours who had moved in and brought down the tone of the place (Crescent Way). The new mother went out to call in her errant offspring by calling "Elveeeeera!!! Auntie Lallie loved doing the impression!
When we came to stay with Auntie Lallie and Uncle Sam, I remember embarrassing my parents by running into the dining room crying "Hey you lot!" (I was sent packing). Dad and I once sang Petula Clark's "Sailor", with him accompanying me on the piano. I asked my dad, did Uncle Sam really live in the garden shed? No, he said, but his cigarette coupons paid for our first radio! I was so frightened of Auntie Lallie back then, she had oriental china and bamboo place mats and clean carpets, but now I can't think why I was frightened, she wasn't scary at all, she was gentle and generous and sweet and in later years I found her funny, warm and full of life, grateful for any small favour and always pleased to hear from us. Equally, she was capable of elbowing others out of the way to get to the front, whether it be at a funeral or a feast!
I remember how Auntie Lallie enjoyed her birthday celebrations, was it her 80th, when she was presented with the album of her life, we all had such a good time, Mum and I staggered back down the lane to the B&B, I think it's the only time I ever got drunk with my Mum! You did your Charlie Brown, and all the grand children did a turn but Lallie was the star of the night!
Dad says they were the closest of the siblings and helped each other out several times. I told Dad that Auntie Lallie had said "the first will be last", he thought that was amusing, and hoped it might have been her dying words, he likes drama, but I had to tell him she'd said it some days ago. That's life.
Today, Isaac and Aysegul make tea and Dad continues to reminisce. He notices he is the last of his generation and has no long term living friends left, but is philosophical. I'll be all right, he says, and turns on the snooker. Every so often he remembers and his voice catches. He's glad we're there, but now he wants to get on with things. I try to encourage him towards thoughts of his "telegram" ( or card, as it is now). He tries to be positive, but it's even harder tonight.
(Auntie Lallie, we all love and miss you..)
Auntie Lallie was so much larger than her own life and always unexpectedly generous. As Isaac said, you would know her if you saw her now from her 1930's photo on Dad's wall because her face was so full of character. One of Grandad's first memories of her is of a teacher saying "Elspeth is such a rough girl" (or "child", I'm not sure which) I asked him why the teacher said this, he doesn't know. What did she do or say? (Does anyone know now?) I talked Dad through lots of memories, he sang songs he remembered from way back, and reminisced about the family business and his mum and dad, "I'm the last of seven", he said, "five" I prompted, "no seven" he said, "mum and dad count", "of course", I said. But why would anyone have called her rough? If she was, she rose above it and beyond! My early memory of Auntie Lallie was of her telling us about some new neighbours who had moved in and brought down the tone of the place (Crescent Way). The new mother went out to call in her errant offspring by calling "Elveeeeera!!! Auntie Lallie loved doing the impression!
When we came to stay with Auntie Lallie and Uncle Sam, I remember embarrassing my parents by running into the dining room crying "Hey you lot!" (I was sent packing). Dad and I once sang Petula Clark's "Sailor", with him accompanying me on the piano. I asked my dad, did Uncle Sam really live in the garden shed? No, he said, but his cigarette coupons paid for our first radio! I was so frightened of Auntie Lallie back then, she had oriental china and bamboo place mats and clean carpets, but now I can't think why I was frightened, she wasn't scary at all, she was gentle and generous and sweet and in later years I found her funny, warm and full of life, grateful for any small favour and always pleased to hear from us. Equally, she was capable of elbowing others out of the way to get to the front, whether it be at a funeral or a feast!
I remember how Auntie Lallie enjoyed her birthday celebrations, was it her 80th, when she was presented with the album of her life, we all had such a good time, Mum and I staggered back down the lane to the B&B, I think it's the only time I ever got drunk with my Mum! You did your Charlie Brown, and all the grand children did a turn but Lallie was the star of the night!
Dad says they were the closest of the siblings and helped each other out several times. I told Dad that Auntie Lallie had said "the first will be last", he thought that was amusing, and hoped it might have been her dying words, he likes drama, but I had to tell him she'd said it some days ago. That's life.
Today, Isaac and Aysegul make tea and Dad continues to reminisce. He notices he is the last of his generation and has no long term living friends left, but is philosophical. I'll be all right, he says, and turns on the snooker. Every so often he remembers and his voice catches. He's glad we're there, but now he wants to get on with things. I try to encourage him towards thoughts of his "telegram" ( or card, as it is now). He tries to be positive, but it's even harder tonight.
(Auntie Lallie, we all love and miss you..)
As for my own thoughts and words... I didn't know Lallie well. Her 80th birthday that my mum refers to, I was about 9. I remember that walk back to the B&B. I'd had a few sips of champagne and was laughing along with my mum and Nannie, my dad kept trying to shush us. Anyway, I hardly remember Lallie from that occasion, just her laughter. I do remember her from more recent visits, most notably my Nannie's funeral two years ago. She was indeed as my mum describes her, kind and funny, tough when she needed to be!
She will be missed. May the old ones watch over her always.
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