A TRIBUTE
By Clare Taylor
Clare's fondest memories of her mum are the fantastic holidays they shared when Clare was a child - or they seemed fantastic, because at such a tender age and in the seventies, Clare didn't understand holidays were actually meant to involve comfort and leisure, much less sunshine and staying dry. Merle was the original nature girl and loved nothing better than cramming her family into a flagging Mini car entangled with guy ropes and tent pegs, and taking them off to camp and commune with nature. The journey would always be exciting and memorable, mainly because there was invariably something wrong with the car. And Merle wanted the holiday to be an adventure, so she frequently took off for some far-flung corner of England with only a vague idea of how to get there. But eventually, the whole family would arrive at Devon or Cornwall or Camber, feeling like refugees who had survived a civil war over map reading. Don't feel sorry for them though, it was the poor Mini that took the brunt of it, what with the weight, the flagging engine and the distance. One time, on their arrival at a much sought-after camp site, Merle triumphantly kicked the Mini's door shut with her foot - and the window fell in.
But her driving skills were not relegated to that poor, old, overburdened Mini. Merle could also drive hessian sacks like they were formula ones, as Clare discovered one day on a sand dune in Camber. Most people would have seen a bit of old sacking on the top of a sand dune, but for some reason that will die with her, Merle saw this as a suitable vehicle to take a short-cut down the sand dune to the beach. You'd have thought she would have been discouraged by the fact she had her five-year old daughter on tow - literally - but you underestimate her. She simply instructed Clare to hold on really really tight, as they were going to go really really fast!
And she took off! Astride the sack, down the side of the dune, shouting at Clare behind her to, "Hold on tight!" She in front ,“steering” (but not really), Clare on the back, her little legs wheeling about madly. Both screeching and squealing with delight as they slid at high speed down the sand dune to land in a big tumble at the bottom, miraculously safe, and laughing so hard, their happiness entwining in the air and flying with the seagulls. It is one of Clare's most treasured memories. And this story exemplifies how Merle had a unique ability and gift - and it wasn't just about hessian sack racing as a potential Olympic sport. In truth the camping was because she never had much in the way of money, but she still managed to make the most memorable and funny holidays ever. She had an innate ability to take something from almost nothing and make it with her imagination and passion for life into something to be held and cherished. And anyone close to her benefited from this gift in so many ways. From her handmade children's clothes, hand embroidered after being sewn on her machine from remnant fabrics, to delectable Christmas dinners and Sunday lunches for sometimes over a dozen of her family, served out of her impossibly tiny kitchen. There were countless ways: crafts, food, clothes, holidays. She even left treasured knitted or crocheted objects created from her arthritic hands towards the end of her life.
But most importantly and maybe the most valued and widespread use of this gift was how she could create a space of love, care and understanding, even when there was very little of any of such things around. At times of trouble she was like a lighthouse on a sturdy rock of love and kindness, and people drew close to her and took shelter in her company and counsel. Merle always had time for you. She gave so much of herself to people, and reflecting on her life, I'm sure all would give thanks for how she spent most if it caring for everyone, most of it spent in service, being there and doing whatever she could for others.
The gratitude she incited in so many is so well expressed by a message that came all the way from New Zealand at the eleventh hour from her beloved friend and soul sister, Val, which I will quote directly from.
Val wrote:
“Now I have lost my best friend. " Auntie Merle" You were always so much more than that. More to me than my mother or my sisters. Right from the start when I was a very young teenager you stood by me and I knew that you understood my situation and I had at least one person on my side. The early years were so hard for both of us but your door was always open and you took us in even though you had so little yourself. It has never changed. So many years later and thousands of miles away if I was ever worried or troubled I knew you were just a phone call away and I could tell you anything and in your quiet, down to earth way you would help me cope. I have always told you I love you even though you were never keen on the emotional stuff but I don't think I ever said Thank You. Thank You for being my Rock, my Anchor, my Safe Place. While you were there I was never alone. A big part of me goes with you today. I love you.”
When Merle became unable to be the one who handled it all, as she always had been, her children stepped in in any way they could. Clare came over to stay with her all the time, Jane called her every day, brought her beautiful things and gave her holidays which would create so many more treasured memories for her in her later years with her grandchildren, Lala, Will and MIkey. And Graham, he was there for her every day, and she never stopped telling us how grateful she was for his care. She said he kept her going, and her life was enriched by so much love and care towards the end.
It would be easy and even fitting to end this on how much everyone loved her, how much she was to other people, but perhaps we can all reflect a little on the Merle before she became the mother, grandmother and friend to so many. Did you know she was a dancer? Her first passion was tap dancing and musicals, followed quickly by training in ballroom to reach national silver medalist status. Her favourite dances were the jitterbug and jive - although she did ballroom too and worked tirelessly to perfect it. Did you know she was a writer?
In Jane and Clare's search through her papers they discovered pages and pages of short stories, poems and memoirs. The first thing they found was a poem which will be spoken at the end of this service. She even wrote her own last farewell. Did you know she was fascinated by herbalism and natural healing? She was someone who carried the archetype of the wise woman on the hill - preferably living in a thatched cottage rather than a three bedroom semi on the hill called Harold. Did you know she had a beautiful singing voice? It was one of her most hidden talents. Her love of music and her gentle contralto soothed every one of her children and grandchildren to sleep at night.
There isn't a person attending here and many who can’t be here who don’t carry some aspect of her gifts, whether it was the kindness she showed, or her loyalty, or nurturing, or her talents for writing, crafts, design, music, performance, comedy, or her connection to nature. Not sure who got the dancing, but perhaps we'll find out at the wake!
All there is left to do is to be thankful she chose to share with all who are here today. She was "yours”. Your mum, your nanny, your relative, your friend. Together, everyone can celebrate the good fortune of how they were able to share their lives with this extraordinary woman. And whilst everyone will miss her so much, her spirit will survive and be with them always. Nothing physical could touch her love and the gifts she blessed everyone in her life with.
Thank you for you,
Merle/Myrtle/Auntie Merle /Mummy/ Mumski/Nanny
You will be loved and remembered forever.