When she was still here in flesh, we would sometimes discuss our impending deaths. You know, as in ‘we are all mortal’, and stuff. Anyway, we both strongly agreed that the other was not allowed to die first. We would playfully argue that we would ‘leave’ before the other, which at times left us in blubbering messes, hugging each other and demanding that the *never* die. In a perfect world we both would live forever, or die on the same day, at the same time, of old age, laying in a hammock on the porch of our little self-sufficient cabin in the rainforest, close to the beach.
We discussed how lost we would be. How we couldn’t *imagine* life without the other. Trying to imagine an existence without each other.
One afternoon in early November 2010, we both listened to this:
Like A Version (The Seabellies), 5th November 2010
We sobbed. We cried, and we went through the ‘don’t die before me’ thing again.
Twelve months later she was gone. We wouldn’t ‘see’ each other again. No shack. No hammock by the beach for us to grow old in together.
Our new found paradise by the beach was nothing without *us*. She was the magic that made our home the special place that it was.
But please, let me take you back, because for those of you who never met her, and didn’t know us, you may get to know her some more. She was a loving, passionately caring Mother and Grandmother. She was a good friend. She was a Sister, an Aunt, a shoulder, a confidante. She was Tina, our Phoenix.
She was funny. She adored her family. This post will make you smile
She also had some other passions, aside from family and friends:
Climate Change was one. And alternative energies.
She loved her art. All forms. She had been using natural materials to create things
You will never be forgotten by anyone. Your family, your friends, those you influenced. We love you Tina. We miss you every day. You are always in our hearts.
I would write more, but I think to understand, you should go back to here, and start reading.