Good bye to Fay - a most wonderful lady

Heck - it was the scariest thing.  So far, since Tony died nine months ago I have only had one occasion when I thought I saw him in a crowd of people.

I imagine this would happen often for some people after they have lost someone they love.  Head into any busy shopping mall and you could easily pick out people that could possibly look like someone else you know. Tony used to do that often, say to me, "Look at that person, don't they look like (whoever).....?"

The one time it happened to me sometime in the middle of this winter was the weirdest few moments; it truly freaked me, then sent me on a good hour of so of near despair.  Funnily enough, it wasn't the face of the person who I momentarily thought was Tony, it was a pair of man's legs.  Tony had very distinctive and great looking legs.  I know, I used to massage them frequently.  And people were always admiring his legs - much to my annoyance as my pair were clearly not worth commenting on.  

It was on one of the few runs I did over winter when I was in my own little world, struggling along, and I looked ahead to see this pair of legs running ahead of me.  Tony's legs. At least the adrenaline pump through my body momentarily thought they were Tony's legs.  They weren't, of course.  In fact, when looking longer I realised they were not quite as fabulous as Tony's legs were.  But they had done the damage by then.  I remember stopping, crying and walking back to the car.  For that one fleeting nano-second I had thought I had seen Tony. Hugely distressing.

I hope to never have any other instance like that again.  

Today, this morning, I was at Mission Bay.  I had gone down to watch some of the crew compete in the Panasonic triathlon series of events being organised early this morning.  Was walking along the Mission Bay footpath, adjacent to the beach, when I looked up and saw the spiting image of, not Tony, but my step-mother who passed away two weeks ago today.  I could not see the lady's face, I saw her from a distance; she was down at the waters edge, clearly supporting someone in the event.  But the body, the height, the clothing, the slight stoop, the age, everything about her was step-mum Fay. Of course I knew it wasn't, but on this occasion I stopped and took a longer and second look.  Yes, the little lady most certainly looked very like Fay. So someone else is lucky that their mother, grandmother, step mother, aunty, whatever, was well, alive and able to be down at Mission Bay at 7 am on a Sunday morning, to watch their efforts. Like most of us, that family probably don't realise just how special it is to have those older family members around.  

I did not get upset today. It made me quietly feel peaceful that the person I was looking at must be a little like Fay on the inside too.  Being down there so early on a Sunday supporting what was probably another, younger family member.  That was so Fay.

Since Fay died two Sundays ago, I have often been taken aback at the reaction of folk when they learn that my step mother had passed away.  The first few times it happened it almost offended me.  It seems that once I mentioned the word 'step' that people dismissed the loss as not being of such great significance as it would have been had the word not been used; had it been my 'mother' instead of my 'step mother'.  

I eventually realised and understood that other folk would not realised the significant place in our hearts that our 'step-mother' had.  She was no ordinary lady, yet in every way she was an ordinary lady.  She had been in our family life for nearly 40 years.  That's a long time to be a family member.  Losing Fay was a great loss - to all of our family, including my boys and Glenn's little Anthony.  She was a special lady.  So much so that I knew I had to share with others just what she meant to my family and myself.  So I wrote my own eulogy to Fay to deliver at her funeral four days later.  It must have been a reasonably good eulogy as I have been thanked for it by various members of those who were in attendance at the funeral.  Two have asked for a copy.  I told them to read my blog site.  So have pasted it here for you family.

Fay's Eulogy

Blood is not always thicker than water. 

Family is not always blood.  

Family are the people in your life who you love and who love you back.  My sisters, brother and I and all our own children loved Fay – to us she was as much as a blood relative to us as we are to each other.

·      She wasn't the world’s greatest cook.

·      She wasn't the world’s greatest housekeeper.

·      She wasn’t the world’s greatest golfer.

·      But she was the world’s greatest Grandma and Stepmother our Cook family could ever have been lucky enough to have.

·      And a dear, kind wife to our father.

·      We have nothing but gratitude that Fay came into his life, and ours

My name is Verna Cook-Jackson, I am the 3^rd child of Lyall Cook who married Fay on 28 December 1976.  I speak for my 2 sisters and brother.  And all our children and their children.

Gratitude

When I think of what Fay has delivered to our lives – I think of the word gratitude.  I am grateful that Fay was in our life, I am grateful my sons and nieces and nephews had Fay as a Grandmother.  I am grateful Fay was my father’s wife.

She came into our lives as a mother and step mother and grandmother and personally, to me, it was a very happy day as my father had found someone to love and share his life with.  And along with Fay came Dianne, as a sister to Tina, and Jan, Lee and Colin, another complete family for our Dad to overseer and enjoy.

Dad did not have to go far to find and court Fay, the only effort he had to put in to courting her was to walk the 50 metres across the road from his house to hers. For she literally lived across the road and had done for many years prior to her husband, and my mother dying, within a relatively close time period.

There was many a titter when we found out our father was 'crossing the road'. 

As a stepmother to us who were well into our 20’s when they married, she slotted into the role of mother, stepmother and grandmother very graciously.  To each of us she had a different relationship.

To my younger sister Tina, Fay was a Mum.

To my older sister Delwyn, Fay wasn't a step mother, she was/is a dear and close friend.  A week never passed without Fay either spending time with Delwyn or phoning her.  Delwyn will miss Fay greatly.

To me, she was a primo step mum who loved my Dad.

Fay never interfered in any way that could cause family difficulty, but was always there whether for joyous celebrations or family setbacks. 

As a grandmother, my boys were so very lucky.  Here was a person who took on the mantel of grandparent without a second thought.  Our children were Lyall’s grand children therefore they were her grandchildren – no debate or discussion, it was the way it was.   It is the only grandmother mine & Delwyn’s children have ever known.

Last night I picked up some old diaries of mine dating back to the late 70’s, early 80’s when my boys and Delwyn’s girls were small – and was reminded of just how an important role she took in their lives. All their lives. The amount of times ‘Grandma’ was mentioned in relation to the children was surprisingly frequent.  Barely a week went past when any of them did not have something to do with Grandma. 

She was a truly unique person. 

At 75 she completed her first ever marathon.  I was there that day and had no idea she had entered.  When I saw her at the start line her first words were, “Don’t tell the family, I don’t think they would be happy with me doing this,” said with a naughty giggle unique to Fay. She followed that with the statement, “Your father and I used to come and watch you girls run this marathon and I always wondered if I could do it too!”  She did.  At 75 years young.

After Dad died Fay told Delwyn of her own personal Bucket List.  It included walking the Tongariri Crossing, doing a couple of major tramps, including Milford Track, doing Tai Chi – and visiting Stewart Island.  It was only a few weeks ago when she was staying in the South Island with Colin & Wendy that she and Colin spent a day at Stewart Island. That by co-incidence, was the last on her list of Things to Do before I go. 

Ironical isn't it?

In this world there are those who are takers and those who are givers.  Fay would have had to have been up there with the world’s greatest givers, literally until her dying day. 

And she made Dad happy.

There are so many lovely stories about Fay and I hope many will be shared over tea and coffee this afternoon, but I want to share a couple with you.

I recall a day, many, many years ago when Dad decided he would take Fay to her first test cricket match to Eden Park.  I think it was 1980 when the West Indies were playing NZ. It was by chance that I was at home in the garden listening to the cricket commentary on the transistor  radio, when there was a pause in the commentary until a commentator said, “There seems to be a stop in play.  The umpires are waving their arms at something. Oh, now we can see what they are waving at. Ah yes, there is a little old lady walking across in front of the sight screen.  Oh, now she’s stopped, in the middle of the sight screen.  She’s seen the cricket players waving.  She’s stopped to see what they are waving at. Geoff Howarth out in the field of play is running over to her. Oh, she’s moving away folks.  She has moved off the field folks, the little old lady has moved from the field of play.  The game of cricket can be resumed.”

Dad, who was sitting in the lower terraces of the main stand heard all this commentary himself as he had his own little transistor radio plugged into his ear and told me when he looked up and saw it was his wife that was holding up the international cricket match, he shrunk down into his seat in the hope no one realised it was the “little old lady” who had earlier been sitting next to him.  Fate had it that he would not get out of this predicament, Fay promptly left the field and returned to her seat next to Dad which according to him, was the most embarrassing part with all muffled sniggers and giggles from those sitting around them.

“I’m never taking her to bloody cricket again!” he announced to us.

My husband, Tony, who passed away earlier this year, absolutely loved Fay – he saw her at the epitome of what he wanted to be like when he got older – even though he already was.

He loved retelling the story of the millennium New Year’s night when I phoned Fay about 6.30 in the evening to wish her a happy New Year.  I asked if she was doing anything special for the night and she said no, she was just going to see the night in quietly by herself. Tony and I and Glenn and a couple of friends were heading out to Piha that night to watch the last of the sunsets for that year.  I said to Fay that she was more than welcome to join us but we were leaving our house in Mt Albert at 7.15 sharp.  As you know Fay lives in Papatoetoe.  She giggled and thanked me for the invitation.  Literally at 10 past 7 there is a knock at the back door and there is Fay.  “Fay!” I said looking at my watch, “have you driven from your place to here in that time?”

“Yes,”she said, “and I was a bit worried as I’ve already had 2 speeding tickets in the last 3 months.

Tony loved that. She went so high up in his estimation from then on he called her The Flying Grandma. 

There are dozen of stories like that, share them this afternoon. In my non-spare time I scribed a short poem, to Fay.

A Tribute To Fay, Our Stepmother

We were bless with Fay as our stepmother
She stepped into the role of Grandma too
She come into our lives and our families,
to do what all grandmas & mothers do.

She looked after our sister &  our children
Their birthdays and celebrations she ne’r missed
And she never sought any return
For her love except to be kissed.

The blended family it soon almost doubled
Keeping her pulse on them all she did tend.
And she was always there for our father,
It was so sad when his life had to end.

Our Stepmother, so longing to comfort,
was determined that she'd not interfere.
But she was always right there in the background,
waiting graciously to help with our tears.

Well, now Fay it’s your turn to depart us
But let me whisper just what's on our hearts.
We were blessed that you joined our Cook family,
and in our lives we’re so grateful you were a part. 

Bless you Fay.