This is the tale of three sisters, Marnie, Betsy and Norma-Jean, my wonderful Mum and Aunts. They were three of the five children of my Grandparents Jack and Nellie. For every moment of my life, the sisters were a constant in the lives of my brother and me. Even living thousands of miles from my aunt’s, they were always there whenever I needed them and me for my Mum’s and Auntie Norma’s IT problems. A few years ago, my Aunt Betsy got the flu and wasn’t well for a while. She and my mum spoke every few days. Betsy suffered complications and died suddenly. I awoke to a sobbing that still haunts me as the word came from Calgary that we had lost Betsy. Norma and my mum did their best to console each other while thousands of miles apart.

A few summers ago, my Auntie Norma joined us in England over for the summer. She got to spend a few months with my parents, my daughter and me and the wonderful woman who would soon become my wife. We travelled to France and enjoyed being a family. I spoke with her last a couple of months ago because she wanted to watch something on Netflix and needed my help. I set her up on our family account. Norma promised she’d only watch that one thing but was so happy when I explained things and that she could see all our names when she logged on. My lovely aunt said she felt a little closer to us.

Sometime on Tuesday, April 13th 2021, my Auntie Norma had a heart attack and passed away. She was on her own in her apartment, and late on Wednesday, after much telephoning and chasing, the local police broke in. My Mum was on speakerphone with my Dad, and when she twigged that the police were not calling for an ambulance, she knew her last sister was gone. While Mum was initially calm, she started having trouble breathing and asked my dad to help her. My Mum fell into my Dads arms and was gone. My Dad had rung 999 when my Mum said she was feeling unwell, and the operator gave him instructions, but because my Mum was a large lady, he could not move her. He dashed upstairs to get help from neighbours Sabina and Hanna, who were able to move Mum and start CPR. The ambulance crews arrived soon after and, in full COVID gear, began the fight to revive my Mum.

When I arrived, there were several ambulances and ambulance cars there. We always use the back door at the flat, and as I walked around like I have a thousand times before, I knew it would never be the same again. I looked in through the door to see my Mum on the floor with lots of paramedics working to revive her. I went around the front, introduced myself to the team who had asked who I was and then waited with my Dad and cousin Jason for news. We could hear both the machines hooked up to Mum and the amazing effort the paramedics were putting in to bring her back.

Granted, they didn’t know my Mum and that once she had made her mind up, her mind was made. When the supervisor came in to tell us it had been an hour since the call (the fastest hour of my life), my Dad, Jason and I knew that it was time to stop and let her rest. The paramedics were upset they couldn’t do more and offered to keep going, but it was time, and they had done their very best to bring my Mum back. They were simply incredible.

My aunts and uncles have always been a massive part of my life, and I’m at a loss to believe that of the five kids of my Grama Nellie and Papa Jack, only my Uncle John remains and that he lost two sisters in a day. My Uncle David, who we lost 20 odd years ago now, fostered a passion for aviation in me that provided a career for over two decades. My Auntie Betsy was my ‘Auntie Mommy’ when I was little and growing up with my cousins who were just down the road from us.

My Auntie Norma was always there, regardless of anything. She cared for my grandparents for years. She took me to ballgames and hockey games. Norma loved my daughter and was the truest of family. She was a refuge when I was little and a friend when I was grown. I have memories of being on the balcony of her apartment on 6000 Younge St in Toronto and just laughing about something. She had the most beautiful giggle, and Norma lit up when she laughed. She had just the biggest heart and the best hugs, after my Mum.

I suppose when we lose our Mum, she is always the best mum ever. And mine certainly was too. She was feisty, spoke her mind but always having considered what she was about to say. She sewed things for anyone in need, insisted that all babies wore hats to keep them warm in winter and the sun off in summer. She hated having her picture taken and yet would send selfies to her granddaughter, checking that she was doing it right and she looks great in every photo taken of her. Her smile lit up any room. She hated receiving flowers and yet was always gracious when they inevitably turned up. I feel for the shareholders of The Edrington Group as sales of The Famous Grouse will now take a noticeable hit following her passing. Through my ups and downs, my parents were this incredible team that was unshakable and always called me out when I needed calling out. Yet, they always acted with love and while my Mum had perfected my Papa Jack’s ‘dreaded look of disappointment’, it never lingered. My Mum’s thoughts were always to the future, that next step forward with a hug and a squeeze of your hand.

My family has been for generations Jehovah’s Witnesses. Not all but many continue to be, including my parents and me. A few years ago, I was disfellowshiped and had to decide if I wanted to return. My parents, who I was living with while paying off debts, had made clear we would not discuss spiritual matters while living with them. One Saturday afternoon, my parents returned home from a special assembly. My Mum knocked on my door and said they would get changed, but she had left something on the ironing board for a moment. I walked in and found the 2013 edition of the New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures. I cried, not just because of the new edition but because it summed this huge part of my Mum and my Aunts lives, their staunch faith in Jehovah God, and His son’s ransom. Thinking about that ransom hope while sitting on the steps of F12 watching the sun come up over Stockholm made me decide to look into if what I knew was what I believed, and I had to test my faith to find out.

My Mum knew her mind, but in a way that you knew she had looked at all the angles and kicked the tires. She had ‘runaway’ to Europe in the 70s and done nothing about the Truth for a while. She met my Dad, and after she returned to Winnipeg, he followed. For a Barnados boy meeting my family, it was something, and he was made very welcome. My Mum made the same decision to return to being one of Jehovah’s Witnesses that I would make many years later, and over watching Hockey Night in Canada, my Dad and Papa Jack talked. My Papa showed my Dad a rather apt scripture for right now. It is found right at the end of the Bible at Revelation 21 verses 3,4 and is the greatest promise ever given. Here God (whose personal name is Jehovah as recorded at Psalms 83:18), promises that: “With that I heard a loud voice from the throne say: “Look! The tent of God is with mankind, and he will reside with them, and they will be his people. And God himself will be with them. And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away.””

It is the greatest promise ever given based upon the greatest sacrifice ever made and one that my Mum believed wholeheartedly. Her faith in Jehovah and her belief in the resurrection promise made her the person she was. It was her surety in that promise, that hope, that saw her through everything. My parents bond was only made stronger by their shared faith, one I share even if I caused them much anguish in finding it for myself.

When I would leave their flat, I had taken to hugging her and kissing her goodbye on her forehead. In the early hours of Thursday last, as she lay there in the home she loved, I knelt kissed her goodbye from me, my Dad and brother, my daughter and wife and all who known and loved her. Many years ago, when my Mum’s mum had died, I went to the funeral home to see my Grama one last time. She looked beautiful after years of ill health had taken their hold. I reached out and held her hand one last time, and I understood a page had turned. I felt the same with that kiss, yet in my mind, like flashbulbs going off were the memories of my Mum. Happy memory upon joyful memory.

A few years ago, I indulged her passion for her favourite movie of all time, Die Hard. It was Christmas Eve, and we popped up to The Prince Charles Cinema to watch John McClane on glorious 70mm. As we had our noodles and sushi in the Tokyo Diner around the corner, she reached across the table and held my hand for a moment. She didn’t say anything. She just held my hand and smiled that wonderful smile. It is an image I shall always cherish but pales beyond compare to the second, which to many may sound odd.

With my memories of those five Eckmire kids flooding back, and I feel much joy among the sorrow. We are a family, we have had ups and downs, but that is just how families are. I think of those three sisters and marvel at the bond they shared. Over thousands of miles, many time zones and years of being together, there were sisters together to the last. That my Auntie Norma died alone breaks my heart figuratively as it did my Mum’s literally. She deserved better and deserved better from us as a family. Yet, we had that summer together. We played Uno together in a French garden, drinking rose into the early hours, laughing, joking, sharing and convinced my Mum was cheating. She hated to lose.

My hope is that we will be together again when Jehovah has made all things new, and this pain and mourning that I’m feeling and feeling for my Dad, who has lost his best friend and partner, will be what has passed away.

Dumas closed The Count of Monte Cristo by saying that “all human wisdom is contained in these two words, ‘Wait’ and ‘Hope’”.

I shall wait and hope, Mum.

If you would like to know more about my Mum and my Aunt’s faith, please head to JW.org where you can find many bible-based articles, videos and publications, including about the resurrection hope, many in over 1000 languages.

Also, if you wish to donate something (please don’t send more flowers! Gin is welcome) please consider the London Ambulance Service’s charities, The London Ambulance Service Charitable Fund which supports the services of the Trust or the Voluntary Responder Group which not only trains people win emergency response, but also provisions Public-access defibrillator sites. Please visit https://www.londonambulance.nhs.uk/getting-involved/supporting-our-charities/ to learn more and make a donation.

As a family, we cannot thank the London Ambulance Service enough for their efforts. The team were incredible and we were humbled by the efforts they went to to revive Mum.