A Life Well Lived

How I long to breathe the air of Heaven

Where pain is gone and mercy fills the streets
To look upon the One who bled to save me
And walk with Him for all eternity

There will be a day when all will bow before Him
There will be a day when death will be no more
Standing face to face with He who died and rose again
Holy, holy is the Lord

(Songwriters: Brian Johnson / Phil Wickham / Bill Johnson / Chris Davenport. Hymn of Heaven lyrics © Be Essential Songs, Bethel Music Publishing, Brian And Jenn Publishing, Songs For Tim, Cdavs Music)

On Friday the 23rd of August 2024 our lives were changed for ever.  My dear, dear Aunt decided enough was enough and silently went to be with the Lord.   I have struggled for a week trying to find the right words, to be able to express the deep loss that I and so many of us feel.

Where to begin, you have always been there, from the moment of my birth right till now.  You have been an aunt to me, a second mum, a surrigate gran and a constant source of love and support.  When things were bad I could always count on you, I could always go to you, there would be no judgment, no expectations to be anyone other than just me.  The memories are just to many to number, where to begin.

The memories of Christmas’s – this always involved us going to Church in the morning then piling in the car and traveling back into town to your home, where we would spend the day surrounded by family and fun.  Alongside the normal Christmas presents there was always delicious food.  There would always be at least three courses before we came to the Christmas pudding which was always drenched in brandy, as you insisted on setting it on fire and bringing it to the Christmas table.   However, by the time you got to the table the pudding would be out, so back into the kitchen, more brandy, and it would repeat until it lasted till the table.  Nobody ever thought to just light it at the table.  You were always fully involved in the snowball fights and all the party games.  However, one of my fondest memories of Christmas were the duets you and mum would play – of course this was after a few glasses of champagne, so many a note was missed or added – but there was lots of laughter and joy.

New Years Eve again was a highlight. Snowballs, lots of food and wine.  This was the only time in the year you would ever go swimming, in all our clothes.  We children were under strict instruction not to splash as you didn’t want your hair or face to get wet.  And then who can ever forget the traditional New Year’s Day picnic.  Each of us would always have a story to tell.

Although festive days were always fun and memorable – you were always there in the everyday events.  You were there to support us in our achievements – the memory of you and mum attending my first swimming gala where you both gave the teacher what for when I was put in the non swimmers group even though I could swim only to be informed that I had said I couldn’t swim because I would rather have picked up bottle tops rather than swim lengths.  Uncle John and you would come out every Sunday for a Sunday roast, and you always joined in the fun – even diving into the hay on the side of our bank – how none of us seriously injured ourselve only God knows the answer to that.  However, that was you to a tee.

You were adventurous and a trend setter.  It was yours and Uncle Johns bravery going out to Africa in the beginning that led mum and her family out.  It was because of your example that I don’t feel like I was brave going to Hong Kong – I had the example of yourselves and my parents that this can all be done.  Your bravery and zest for life was evident till the very end.  You were in so so much pain for so long, and where it would have been so easy to just give up and take to your bed, or to not do anything, but you didn’t.  You fought it till the very end, and the one blessing of your passing is that you are no longer in pain.  Your strength, courage and determination not to give up is such a strong testomony to who you are, and if I can emulate even a small part of that I will be so happy.

Your refusal to grow old – or at least appear old – is another strength of yours.  You never shied away from technology.  You got your first computer and had to use it regularly at the Publicity in Mutare. Often, I would get a phone call while I was at work saying how do I do this or that, and I would have to talk you through it.  This never ended, the last being this year when you lost your mouse!  This in latter years would leave to a little bit of hilarity as I would then video call, but you never stopped trying or learning.  If you thought the video calls were amusing, the texts were something else.  I’m still trying to work out the one text, which was just the letter ‘p’. 

You were also a huge example on how a life was about service.  Your commitment to the WWI, the Special Olimpics in Zim and all the other charitable activities you were involved in, helped form who I am today.  It didn’t matter who you were, you accepted everyone.

The thought of the future, at the moment, without you brings sadness and uncertainty.  I will miss being able to come sit and knit or sew next to you.  I will miss the picnics and the laughter.  I will miss being able to come to you for it all.  But I will miss you for you the most. 

I thank God, though that I was born into this family.  That I had the honour of having you as an Aunt/second Mum.  Know that you are out of pain and resting in the Lords arms.  You are with your mum and dad.  You have run your race and you are now at peace.  God Bless you Aunty Shirley.  I love you.