When Mum was in New Zealand, she had taken a flight to Milford Sound and said that it was the best thing that she had ever done. So, later, we drove towards that area, over the mountains to Wānaka, then piled into a Southern Alps Air propeller plane, and took to the skies. We looked down on the same forests, valleys and mountains that Mum had done, thinking of her all the time.
One of those areas was Treble Cone, where I had trained as a ski instructor after university. After landing back in Wānaka, we drove up the long, winding dirt track towards it, strapped baby Lyra to my front, and hiked to a ridge. Below us was the chalky-blue, braided Matukituki River, with the glistening, glacier-covered Mount Aspiring in the distance.
“Hello, Mum,” I said. “You always said that Wānaka was the most beautiful place you had ever visited, and this viewpoint was my favourite place to rest when I skied here. I wish we could have come here together, but I certainly feel you here with me. Thank you for everything, Mum. All this is because of you. I love you.” I cast Mum’s ashes into the air and they floated away on the breeze, towards Wānaka.
That evening, I met up with Hemi Vincent, a Māori friend who had hired me as a doorman when I lived in Wānaka. He asked about my aotea necklace, and I told him the story of its connection to Mum and Lyra through its colour.
Source link : https://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/destinations/oceania/new-zealand/my-mother-died-of-cancer-new-zealand-turned-my-grief/
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Publish date : 2024-03-28 03:00:00
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