One illness and a funeral

What a month February proved to be! Stephen attended a call from Mother Terry in the wee hours of Monday January 31st, 2011 and agreed with the ambulance folks to send her off in to the hospital for tests. Three days later the diagnosis was made. Cancer. And a lot of it. Although she refused to receive visitors except family for the week, Terry started to see friends on the weekend of Feb 5th. Dreams merged with reality.... Terry told us that St Anthony of Padua had thoughts to share, as did Mohammed and Gandhi.

On the 16th Terry slipped into a coma. She stayed that way until 9:19 am on the 19th when we were with her as she died. But she died a good death. Until her hospital admission Terry was living independently, was driving, and stayed away from "in care" living.

What she really wanted was a celebration of her life... so as was her wish, it's party time soon.

A family-only service was held on the 23rd and the planets aligned - the priest was Nigerian. Terry had spent some time in West Africa and indeed had a West African husband.

At the service her favourite music, Nigerian, Soul, Kenyan, Ghanaian and a couple of Gregorian chants played and family contributed to readings.

Fr Francis loved the music and in his informal speech spoke of walking in to the funeral hearing the tune we played that took him back to Nigeria - "Sweet Mother". A poplular ditty in many African countries. He sang a few lines and then spoke of his meeting with Terry who "went on, and on, and on". Yup- that's Terry.

Son Jon who flew down from Singapore gave an impromptu eulogy. Having a stand up comic in the clan worked well - his description of Terry in heaven was great!

"God. That rainbow is crooked. Can't you straighten it up? No? too busy with earthquakes in New Zealand and floods in Bangladesh? Thor.... can you lend a hand? Ohhh - what muscles!". In Jon's desciption Terry requested tasks of a number of deities ranging from Ganesha to Buddha (not sure the priest was as keen on that) and she chided Jesus for not having fixed her broken rocking chair. "What sort of carpenter are you?"

We will all miss you Terry. Good luck teaching Gandhi that tricky dance step...