Our mum

Marion and Juliette have so many fond memories of their mum, here are just a few:

Marion: What I will miss most about my Mum is everything that makes up a relationship full of love – her arms around me, her hugs, her hand to hold, walking together, her voice and her laugh. I’ll miss her birthday cakes, her apricot pie and other wonderful cooking. I’ll miss sharing joy in the beauty of the world – the skies, the sea, the mountains and the people we know and love. She was our contact to our family in France and to so many friends – I am certain we will pick up these strong bonds with so many important people.

She was adventurous and travelled far and wide – it was striking to me in her stories, that it was the people she met and connected with that were the most important part for her. For example the young Aita woman who questioned their right to come from Europe and collect the local history – this struck a chord and Francoise though that she had a very good point.

When she was told her diagnosis was terminal, she wanted to make sure she know how proud she was of us and especially her grandchildren growing into young men and women. She was sad that she would not see the West coast again and very much wanted to see the sea. I am glad we managed a trip to Portobello in November and that she could have a rule breaking hug with Jo.

Her grandkids remember her creativity and how she shared her love of literature, language, art, music and poetry by doing things together with them in her unique way. She enjoyed many holidays and travelling with them, including taking Nayan to Paris and Kiran to Rome – even if she did Tai – Chi in the airport, which in our house will always be known as ‘the ancient art of embarrassing people’. She had hoped to take Jai to Colombia – but sadly that wasn’t to be. This time last year we were in Val D’Isere and she walked up and down in the snow, taking Jai to Ski school and meeting us for lunch up the mountain – a very special time together

She was generous of spirit – always keen to help others by giving her time where she could, quietly and not for accolades – volunteering at Citizen’s Advice, working with Sashita and helping young immigrant women with learning English. She also assisted many friends at times of need.

She knew the importance of friendship throughout her life through good times, hard times, the parties, the laughs and the fun. She had friends of all ages and from many countries. She loved each of her friends for their individual nature and also liked people who were prepared to think out of the box, to take risks, or bend and break the rules. Even in the hospice, she joked about making sure we broke some rules every now and again. When we were teenagers, her advice to me was ‘keep yourself safe and don’t get arrested’. She trusted us and allowed us to be who we were and take our own risks – in a way she hadn’t been allowed to do in her teenage years.

She loved Edinburgh – her home for 48 years, despite the dodgy weather and terrible coffee. Going to France was always a treat for some sunshine and for our taste buds. She had amazing English although on some occasions things were lost in translation – like the time our babysitter, Mrs Hawkins called my Mum at work to say Juliette had split her head open. My mum was in a state of shock until she got home to see that she just had a small cut on her forehead.

Juliette: Mum always got on well with all my friends – and there are just a few examples I would like to share. Al Rennie has been my friend since we were teenagers and he always got on well with my mum. He appreciated her warmth and openness, and her irreverent sense of humour – there were many long conversations, evenings of hilarity, camping trips and social events. He now has two children, Bella and Poppy, who also got on well with my mum. Bella recently turned 10, and in her first text message to me with her new phone, she said ‘I’m really sorry about your mum, she was a very nice lady’.

One time, when I was in Cambridge, I introduced my mum to 2 of my friends while we were at Strawberry Fair – a kind of 1-day outdoor event like the Meadows Festival. After brief introductions, my mum immediately started telling them how she wanted to go and have a look at the tepees because she was thinking of making one in the garden for her grandchildren. They spent the next 15 minutes talking teepees, and after 15 minutes, they turned to me and declared ‘Your mum’s lovely!’

This was a common refrain when friends met my mum – people from all different backgrounds and all walks of life enjoyed her company. When she was still getting to know David, at one point he mentioned he liked the Situationist philosophy. My mum immediately started telling David about all her favourite Situationist philosophers, and he was amazed by her in-depth knowledge of the topic. 

She was extremely bright and she had a passion for ideas, but had no time for intellectual snobbery or superiority. While she could manage multi-million pound budgets for the European Commission and coordinate international conferences, she could also play a simple game with her grandchildren or knit a jumper for a friend. She was a good listener, and paid particular attention to those who didn’t push to make themselves heard – a disabled colleague in Brussels once told her she was the only person in the office to make a point of saying hello to him every morning. And when she detected any kind of emotional fragility, her instinct was always to be protective and make people feel better about themselves.

She took great joy in art, music and theatre, as well as in nature, and above all she loved people. Her advice that I remember best was “When you want to tell someone you love them, be precise”. She was creative and playful, intelligent and perceptive, self-aware, kind and generous, thoughtful, respectful, irreverent, unsentimental, gentle and unassuming. I will miss her.