Queen of Hearts

First, the photo I’ve been asked to present.  

The Titanic Ball was nothing short of magnificent.  The recreation of the facade of the ship’s bow and all of the other details were stunning.

A call came after the third course of dinner.  I don’t even know why my phone buzzed. I must have put it on vibrate instead of silent but when I saw that it was one of Derek’s brothers, I answered. It was bad news.  Their Mom had died earlier that evening.  Audrey would have been 82 this summer.

Along with her husband Reg who predeceased her by more than ten years, Audrey raised six children with love, humour and an unbelievable energy.  Decades of having Parkinsons Disease robbed her of her ability to control her body but somehow it didn’t take her sense of humour.  One of the first times I met her, we had taken her out somewhere and when we returned to her long-term care home, another brother had arrived to visit.  Derek and his brother played a game of catch using Audrey in her wheelchair as “the ball”, pushing her back as forth down the hallway as she laughed out loud. She needed help on a physical level but her spirit was as strong as ever and she loved to laugh.  More recently she had us laughing with stories of her childhood and pranks she had played and (harmless) trouble she had gotten into.  This proper little English woman was quite a scamp in her youth.

Audrey had been an avid tennis player and she loved horses.  As a young girl in England she took riding lessons alongside fellow student Elizabeth Windsor, now better known as Queen Elizabeth.  At her home, she was known among her peers as the quickest to solve word puzzles and she loved Scrabble and other word games.  One by one she had to give up those things she enjoyed as the illness took its toll.  But what she loved most of all was family and she was at her happiest when surrounded by the noise and excitement of everyone being together at holiday time.

One day several years ago, Audrey was at our house for lunch.  She had asked if I would help her to the patio door overlooking our deep back yard.  On our way back to her chair we had a Lucy-and-Ethel moment and somehow Audrey ended up on top of me, on the chair.  She was unable to lift herself up and I couldn’t move her – so there we sat!  It could have been awkward or even a little scary but Audrey set the tone by giggling and pretty soon it was contagious.   And that’s how they found us, laughing as we sat in an immobile human lump.

And that’s how I will remember Audrey.  Laughing, lighting up at the sight of her family and with a ready smile for anyone she met.  So long Mrs. B.  You left a legacy of a wonderful family I am proud to be a part of.