I loved her. She was who I wanted to be when I grew up. Wise. Artistic. Kind. Opinionated. Well Read. And downright sexy.
She died tonight. It was time. Her mind was sharp. Her body not so much. She did it quietly. Turned her face to the wall. And left us. Richer.
I am so struck by how she looked as a child and how she looked the last time I saw her in May and had the foresight to take a picture. The same intelligent,direct gaze. The same gorgeous hair.
I am so glad I wrote the following for her on her birthday this year and sent it to her. She loved it. And showed it to her friends. I could tell her anything. And she would tell me stuff she couldn't tell her daughters.
Sleep with the angels, my dear friend. You were so loved.
A Tribute to Mary Molloy Todd MacKay on the occasion of her 92nd Birthday.
The facts were this:
Born 1917, Donegal, Ireland.
Emigrated Canada, 1921.
Unwritten was this:
An artist, a reader.
A seamstress, a raconteur.
Lover of fine food and opera,
Opinions on life and love were
Well thought out, sympathetic.
And sometimes argumentative
But never cruel. Shy (but why?)
And still counts her numbers in Irish.
And this may surprise you:
She harboured a dream.
Of wearing top hat, glitter vest
And black satin shorts.
While dancing in fishnet stockings
On shimmering high heels.