Marmie, 


First of all - I know I misspell the name ‘Marmie’ - it should be Maami.  But I’ve always spelt it incorrectly, and whenever I texted you I would say ‘Hi Marmie.’ In all those years, you never corrected me. So, that’s that - you will always be Marmie to me :) 


I really miss hearing you say ‘Hello Indra!!’ in that excited voice when you picked up the phone. You were always so happy when I called, and I could hear it in the tone of your voice. Every time, you thanked me for making the time.  I wish I had made the time to call you more. I let life and work get in the way and make me busy. But no matter what was going on in your life, you were always happy to talk, and you were never upset with me if it took me a while to call you. People tell me this is a life lesson - a reminder that I should make more time for my loved ones. But I’ve learnt that lesson in one of the hardest ways by losing the Aunt I was closest to so suddenly. 


When I was a kid, you and I were going for a walk around Ilford. I must have been 6 or 7. We were walking side by side, and then you told me to walk in front of you a bit. I plonked ahead with my two feet turned outwards and my arms proudly swinging. You laughed and said I walk like a duck! I said, “No I don’t - I walk like Dadda!” You said, “Yes, your Dadda walks like a duck too.” You showed me how to walk properly. We walked together and you watched me carefully copy you and place one foot in front of the other.  Whenever we went for a walk after that, I saw you quietly checking to make sure I hadn’t picked up the duck-walk again from my Dad. When I’m out for a walk now, I look down at my feet and laugh as I remember that day. 


We loved our sleepovers at your house when we were kids. You were like a superhero - you disappeared at night (as you worked night shifts), and then reappeared in the mornings in your superhero outfit from the hospital. On Sundays, I know you must have been exhausted after a week of nightshifts, but you always made time for us. You started the day with records playing from your record player. We had a lot of fun with you - you took us out for chicken and chips, shopping, and the cinema. We used to go home on Sunday nights and report back to our Mum: “Marmie gives us TWO chocolates after dinner, you only give us one!!!” 


As the years went by, I admired your strength in ways that I never told you. Thank you for showing me what courage and resilience looks like. You worked hard and bought the house at Kingston Road on your own. Kingston Road became the central spot for this entire family over the years as you opened up your home and put a roof over everyone’s heads at various times.  I know there were tough times - and we talked about that - but you never wanted to give up and you always fought through it.  You worked hard, but you always knew how to have fun too. From playing guitar, to singing, knitting, cooking, and gardening - you had a range of hobbies and you excelled at them. In the last few months, you even excelled at exercising and eating healthily, which was completely unexpected! Thank you for showing me that we need to work hard and stand on our own feet, but we also need to enjoy ourselves and make time for hobbies and enrich our lives.  In one of our last conversations, we had lunch and you told me about your decision to stop dying your hair. You told me people are always telling you to dye it black but you refuse because you couldn’t be bothered to waste your time with something that will just grow back grey in two weeks. You decided to embrace it, and now you really liked it. In that same conversation, you also told me you didn’t want to move anywhere from Kingston Road - that home is  your home, and that garden couldn’t be replaced. I called Rajat on my way home and I remember telling him: “She’s a total badass, Rajat. It’s amazing.” 


A few years ago, Rajat and I got married without telling many people that it was going to happen. I brought him round to see you a few days later. The three of us spent the day together and went shopping on Ilford Lane. You didn’t criticize my decision to get married quietly, or for not doing it in a church. You were genuinely happy for me.  You liked him a lot - which truly meant a lot to me, as I know that praise is difficult to receive!! Whilst everyone else - family and friends - has expressed bewilderment at the long distance in our relationship, you were the *only* person who once told me: “What you both have is a mature love. You don’t need to be next to each other all the time to know that you love each other. That’s very rare.” Despite the hardships that you endured in life and the times that often felt lonely, you had such an astute understanding of what love is. 


Rajat recently told me that he observed our dynamic that day that I brought him round to meet you. He said you were one of the only people who really accepted me for who I am, and the same vice versa. We never tried to change each other. We loved each other for who we were, and we had an understanding of who we each were without needing to discuss it. One of the few times we did talk about our personalities was when you commented to me: “I know you put on a strong exterior, and you can shout or be loud towards people, but then you feel very sad inside. I know this, because I am exactly the same.” 


Well, Marmie - I’m really feeling this sadness right now. I have so many things I want to ask you. I wish I had told you that I thought you were total badass - though, I know you probably wouldn’t have understood the word! Thank you for the unconditional love for 32 years. Thank you for showing me the importance of making time for yourself and others. Thank you for showing me that it's never too late or too difficult to make a new friendship. Thank you for making sure I didn’t go through life as a duck. 


I miss you. 


Indra