These sad and grateful days

In the early hours on Friday, my dear sister-in-law Mel died.

The gaping holes left in our family, in Mel’s family, and especially in the lives of my brother Ned and his son Barney, are indescribable.

Mel and Ned married in 2012 but she’s been a part of our family for far longer than that. This is the oldest photo I could find – from 2007 – featuring (from right to left) Ned and Mel and Ferg and, at the back, our Pops.

The most recent one I have was taken here, during a wonderful visit when Ned and Mel and Barney came to see us in St. Leonards.

Grief is a rollercoaster that lurches between moments of intense gratitude and desolation. I feel enormous thanks for all the things we have shared; thanks that Mel left us utterly surrounded by love; thanks that we all had a chance to say our goodbyes last weekend; and thanks that at least she’s not suffering anymore. Yet from one moment to the next this gratitude swiftly dissolves into ugly-crying at the awful loss.

It’s so dissonant going through old photos feeling this sad about Mel, because Mel was always smiling.

My parents have been staying with Ned this past while, making it possible for Mel’s mum and brother to join Ned at the hospice, day and night. They’ve also been supporting in the shared love-language of my family: food. Cottage pies, bacon butties and roasted cauliflower all played key roles in last week’s sad events and yesterday one of my other brothers – Thad – provided what I know will have been an intensely healing chilli. My Pops has been finding thoughtful and helpful poems to copy into the group chat, where we have all been searching for words to try and make this situation better.

I’ve been feeling thankful for my whole family this week. I’m grateful for how we come together in a crisis; for the love and laughter we share; that we can all cook and that – even when our hearts are broken – the silent rule is that nobody will be hungry. We are quick to laugh, quick to anger, quick to cry, quick to hug. We aren’t perfect but there is no lack of love and I’m so grateful for that because that, right now, is what is needed most of all.

On Saturday morning, I went to the freedom dance organised by Em that happens at sunrise every two weeks. I requested You’ve got a friend in me from the movie Toy Story, as this is the song Ned and Mel had as their first dance at their wedding. I bawled my eyes out to that and almost every other tune, and felt so grateful to be living here, where there are enough friends and safety for me to be able to bring my whole heart and all my feelings and dance them out into the waves.

I’m grateful that my ongoing burn-out and lack of big KNITSONIK projects at this time mean I can just concentrate on the love.

I have too many memories of Mel to share them all but the things I think of most are her massive smile; her love of puns; her mischievous sense of humour; the joy she took in everyday things (tea, flowers, Ned’s Yorkshire puddings); and that she was one of the most organised people I’ve ever met. Her organisational skills constituted a kind of deep care as well as being a form of creativity in their own right. Amongst other things, we bonded over a shared passion for special bags and boxes in which to keep and arrange important things. I slightly regret that I didn’t buy her a multi-pocketed Nordace bag just like mine the second she mentioned it; ever-pragmatic, she didn’t want to get one and then “not get the use out of it”.

Mel cared for everyone with maximum thoughtfulness but minimal fuss, and was enormously resourceful and positive. When cancer diminished her energy and joy, she took solace in doing jigsaw puzzles and making unapologetically joyous sparkly diamond art – teaching me and my nieces how to do it, too – and gleefully showed us how carefully and fastidiously she had stored away all the tiny sparkly bits used to make this kind of art in teeny tiny pots.

Mel dedicated her life to the Girl Guiding movement and was passionate about empowering young people and especially women and girls. She was hugely excited about the Balance for Better Blanket on which I collaborated with KDD&Co., and couldn’t wait to share it with her Guiding colleagues… and I’ll never forget the time she and my mum supportively came to a sound art conference that I had co-organised many years ago.

I learnt a lot from Mel about parenting. When Barney was little, I looked after him during a period when she was having a lot of seizures. What made it possible for me to care properly for a nine-month old baby, was her meticulous manual. It had everything in it: sleep schedules; eating schedules; how to sterilise his bottles and give him his formula; how to look after him in every way.

Mel said she’d made it in case anything happened to her – to ensure that Barney’s needs would still be met. Like everything she did, it was observant; full of humour and affection; and incredibly practical.

I wish there was a manual for looking after Ned and Barney now, but maybe we can find a way forward without one, making up those chapters as we go: Mel certainly showed us how.

All my thoughts at this moment are with Barney and my brother. Ned’s care for Mel has honestly been one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I wish that everyone who leaves this world could be surrounded by a love as thick, solid and unwavering as that with which Ned surrounded Mel.

He wrote a beautiful tribute to Mel that was circulated on social media to Ned and Mel’s friends. I have no idea how he found the courage or capacity to write something so lovely at such a critical moment, but that is the kind of person that he is. We are all so proud of the kindness and presence he’s demonstrated through this shitty, difficult time.

Rest well Mel; we love you so much and will look after your boys xxx

Ned’s tribute

It is with great sadness that I inform you that Mel passed away at 3 am this morning. She had been battling an extremely aggressive breast cancer which defied all treatment. She was admitted to St Wilfrid’s hospice 3 weeks ago initially for symptom control but scans showed she had an immense disease burden in her body and brain. It is unbelievable how long she had been able to cope with so much cancer throughout her body.

She has been cared for beautifully at St Wilfrid’s hospice who have enabled her to have family and friends visiting throughout the day and night with nothing being too much. They even allowed a family barbecue and egg hunt for our nieces and nephews.

Not once in her 3 weeks here has she said a bad word, or a negative thing to anyone. She has been delightful and utterly grateful to everyone here from the cleaners to the HCAs, therapists, nurses and doctors as well as the amazing kitchen team.

Her resolve is beyond inspirational. To the end she was brave and stoic, stubbornly refusing to give in which I’m sure doesn’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows Mel well.

She finally succumbed at 3am in my arms with her brother and mum beside her.

In the 26 years I have known Mel she has taught me so much, her ability to see positives where no one else can is amazing. She has dedicated her life to the girl guide movement culminating in being awarded the silver fish and medal of service (the highest awards for volunteers in national and internation guiding respectively) as well as an MBE for services for young people.

There is a growing book with pages filled by girl guides and girl scouts across the globe who have been inspired by Mel which can be read online.

She has also been a fabulous and supporting wife encouraging me to follow my aspirations, and a wonderful mummy to Barney who continues to surprise us by his maturity and immaturity in equal measures.

I am immeasurably glad to have known her and proud of everything she has achieved. Her untimely passing leaves an enormous hole which will never be filled.

Goodnight my beautiful girl I know that you are up there singing songs around an inextinguishable campfire (no doubt at least 10ft tall after you have “refuelled” it). You will be forever missed, but I promise you your boys will continue to make you proud.

Love as always.