Few of us live our lives for the moment or grab every opportunity with both hands and dance with it until our feet fall off. When we meet someone who has lived like that, without holding back, strutting every inch of their zest for life and pouring forth their talents without fear, they shine.
My partner's Mum, Maureen "Mo" McKenzie, was one of these people. Modest but not frightened of raising her voice to let the world know she was happy or to sing at a family party recalling her days in Dublin when she was a nightclub singer; spirited in how she looked after her late husband, cared for her son, created a loving, supportive home and gave all around her the desire to enjoy life as it is rather than how we would wish it and with that wish in our mouths become bitter with the gap between the two.
In the early hours of Monday morning I was privileged to be sitting at her bedside with my partner and our friend Nina when this magnificent woman passed peacefully away. She simply closed her eyes and went to sleep, without distress and without pain.
In the moments before, we told her about how much we loved her, how she was safe, Craig was safe and loved and that she could sleep.
I also made her a solemn promise; silently and between just her and myself. She had read something I had written some time ago - unfinished - and loved it so much that she gave me a hard time on numerous occasions about "getting on with it".
Mo was a voracious reader. The piece was written a long time ago and, although a day doesn't go by when I do not think about it, I put it aside with the nebulous promise that the "Project" element of my degree would see it revived and worked on. Mo pointed her finger at me, three chapters still in her hand, and told me that it needed to be done - "get it down and off to someone."
At that moment, next to her bed, my hand resting on her shoulder, Craig holding her hand, I made a promise that I would return to that piece and work on it to my best. She closed her eyes and slipped away in her sleep; succumbing to cancer with quiet, dignified strength.
We are in the phase or organising her funeral and telling officialdom about the passing of this great lady. My partner is taking an hour to play his violin - something his Mum would always quiz me about whenever we played cards or sat and ate a meal together. "Is he practising?" "When's he playing next?" etc She was desperate for him to take his talents and use them, strut them and shine with them. And he will - I shall make sure of that.
As for my talents, I am, as always unsure - but I will keep my promise and trust this marvellous woman - Magnificent, Mighty Mo McKenzie.
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