All the girls have gone

Yesterday got the news that my mum's youngest sister had died. My mum was from a family of seven children, of whom only two remain.

My aunt was real firebrand. She loved dancing, sport, movies and music. We would talk about my mum, who had done of lot of the practical work of bringing my aunt up. This created quite an interesting dynamic as both my aunt and I saw my mum as a mum. We talked about cricket, jazz and many of her opinions on life. She was full-on, sometimes tactless but always a loving person.

Once my aunt came to stay with my mum, who had already lost dad and was quite a way into her dementia. When Ann left, my mum explained what a wonderful time they had had, acting like sisters again, chatting, arguing and remembering. Unfortunately, Ann's attempts to change my mum's ways and habits didn't work at all. As stubborn as my aunt was, she had nothing on my mum.

When you have a large family, it's normal to lose track of people and to feel that you don't have much in common with them. Aside from a passionate love of music, I didn't have a lot in common with my aunt, but if she wasn't a large part of my life, she was a loud and loved part of it. And she'll be greatly missed.

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