And then there was one

My friend Yoly emailed me and messaged me, “Call Norma.” She does not have email and uses my friend as a conduit when she wants to get to me quickly.

My step mom wanted to tell me Connie had died, my father’s cousin. I had last seen Connie almost two Christmases ago when we ate dinner at a club together. As always she was elegant, interested in everything and full of laughter. Until recently she was active in visiting “old people” who can't get around, forgetting she was getting close to 90 herself. Suddenly, she started talking to her husband, who had been dead for a decade or two and that was followed by a physical decline. My mom kept me posted on her condition.

I wanted to hug my mom but my arms do not reach across the ocean. Instead I let her talk through yet another loss in a short period of time. I realised, but did not point out, she is the only one left of my father’s generation, a whole parcel of in-laws with whom they used to play cards, go on trips, spend long summer days on my dad's boat and share holidays and parties with. All of them took her to their hearts.

She also recently lost the man she had “kept company” with for 16 years after my dad died.
Worse, her daughter, my step-sister died a year ago -- loss after loss, until almost no one shares her memories.

I wish she had agreed to come to Switzerland to live with me, when I proposed it, but she wanted to stay where she was, something she had the right to do.

All I can do is hug her with my voice and let her know the next generation loves her to pieces.