What happens when giants die

Do we replace them? Do we honour them? Do we stay small? These are the questions I have been facing with the passing of my aunt Mary.

I have felt many things regarding her passing. The phases of grief played/ play out as follows

Shock- no way could she die. How dare cancer kill another loved one. Plus isn’t she immortal?

Regret-she, like her sister had raised me and I hadn’t spoken to her in ages. Her last speech rings in my ears. “He didn’t tell us how to live. He lived and we watched him do it.” Immortal word that came from another loving daughter to her father. She was speaking at her father’s 2 year anniversary. It was so poinent that when my own father passed I was legitimately going to lock, stock and smoking barrel steal her words and put them in my tribute. Only she, her siblings, and my mum would ever know. But I didn’t. I used my own words. Found my own voice.

Nostalgia- remembering the good times. My auntie Mary was the first daughter of my grandma Margret, who owned a sewing school. She was a model and owned her own shoe line. She was a pioneer before pioneers became pioneers. The fearless way the Richard’s family stars have lived is an inspiration to us all. But in truth is more like a “shock and awe” assault on your laziness. You did this? And this? AND this? Meanwhile it was everything I could do to get up this morning.