Yesterday marked twelve months since my cousin died, just short of her 65th birthday. I returned to the country town of my birth, to seek out her memorial plaque at the local cemetery. It was hot and dusty in the familiar place where many of my relatives are buried or have their ashes interred. Rain this season has been wanting and the countryside is dry and crackles underfoot. The unsealed roads nearby contribute to the dust circulation when a car passes by.

I wander down to the rotunda, find my cousin’s stone plate under a rose bush and stand there quietly. I still experience a sense of disbelief that she’s gone and all that’s left of her life is a shining plaque with her name on it and the names of her husband, sons and little granddaughter. It’s quiet except for the shrill of a bird beyond and a then a soft fluttering as it flies overhead. I touch the marble-like memorial to feel the reality of her passing. Life does this to us all in the end, we live and then we die. And our whole being as everyone knew us is silenced forever, that is, except the memories. We can never silence memories.

I tell my cousin how much she is missed and even although I didn’t see her all the time as we live in different towns, we were first cousins and have a vibrant family history together. Her mum and my mum were sisters, they came from a close family, there were many wonderful times as a larger family when grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins all got together. Always humour, often singing and a general sense of well being.

It’s the memories of the funny stories my cousin told and her ability to find the lighter side to difficult times that I loved so much. She thrived on humour and infected others with her ability to laugh and joke when the going got tough. Everyone needs a person in there lives that brightens up the the dullness of life that it sometimes brings. My cousin was that sort of person, a throw away line, a roll of the eyes and a laughable quip. But her serious side as a clinical nurse, midwife and maternal and child health nurse she took seriously. She was an excellent practitioner with well developed skills and she had a long history of working in the her field, almost up until she died.

She deserved longer to watch her adult sons live their own lives and dreams, she deserved time to love her precious granddaughter. She and her caring husband deserved to grow older together. But sadly, we learn that life doesn’t promise anyone a guarantee.

I stand and talk to my beautiful cousin, I remind her of funny stories and times we had. One, a surprise party in a small local pub. The guests waited in anticipation of the guest of honour arriving. Party guests goers were instructed to shout loudly, ‘Happy Birthday’. The door opened slowly and my cousin who was closest to the door sprung up and did the shout, only to frighten the heck out of an elderly hotel patron who had nothing to do with the party, as he entered the hotel. He threw his hands in the air including his wallet, small change all in coin (he must have been counting it at the time) and his hair comb! My cousin, then found herself on her knees picking up the scattered belongings for him. Her telling of that story has stayed with me and I still laugh out loud when I remember that humorous tale, years later.

The sun was not as seering and a soft breeze had started to move amongst the familiar gum trees in the distant. I walked slowly back to the heavy iron gates, past the graves and headstones of many locals, some of my dearest relatives, including my mother and father. There are many memories in this place. Some that live on in the minds of others and some that fade over the decades. But right now the memories of my beautiful cousin won’t leave me, I don’t think they ever will.