You took care of everything inside the whare for the three days we were there. You explained my role, what I should do and be aware of. You made sure everyone else knew their place as well. You were there first thing in the morning and left in the evening after seeing I was settled for the night. I haven't forgotten anything. You made sure I was warm.
At the service I wanted to wear a beautiful black hat. Remember? When Theo watched a film where the widow of the mafia boss would turn up to her husband's funeral wearing a large black hat with a veil, he would say, "I want you to wear a hat like that." When I showed you my hat and said I wanted to wear it you told me to put it away.
I would look too pretty in my hat sitting beside the coffin. I loved that remark. I do wear it now sometimes when I go to the cemetery.
What I value most though is how you kept in touch with me. For the first few months, ringing to tell me if a close relation of Theo's had died, and I must attend the funeral. You would be there with me, ensuring I knew the importance and significance of these reciprocal occasions.
And your early-morning phone calls to tell me what was going on. Sometimes when I was running late and trying to leave the house I didn't answer the phone on purpose. I know that was wrong, Aunty, but it was very hard to extract myself once you settled in.
After the usual 20-minute conversation I could have been at my appointment in town by then. I only did this a couple of times though.
I really enjoyed our dinners at the Citizens' Club together. Pango and Richard would walk past and ask us what we were plotting. It was a little like that, heads bowed, deep in conversation. I remember once when I was feeling particularly brave, asking why you were often so grumpy. You didn't hesitate.
As Kaikaranga you were constantly being asked to be more flexible, to make adjustments or to accommodate something or someone. This upset you. You felt very strongly about the depth of tikanga that went with your role.
You were taught by kuia who monitored your performance, and you stressed to me they were never asked to be flexible.
When the time came for others to take over as Kaikaranga they could be, but you would continue to refuse all requests to be flexible.
And your disapproval didn't stop there. When a relation of Theo's took an interest in my welfare last year you didn't approve of that either. You rang and asked me to come around. I thought we were going to have a nice afternoon together. But no, anything but. It wasn't a good afternoon for both of us.
I wasn't interesting in hearing about family squabbles from 60 years ago. You made your position clear, voiced your opinion and sadly never changed your mind.
I will always remember our long talks. You knew Theo's family, his parents, all his brothers and sisters, and I loved hearing you talk about them.
Your memory was fantastic and that kept my memories bright too. You were a link to my Theo.
As Kaikaranga you welcomed royalty, overseas dignitaries and many eminent people from New Zealand and around the world to Tamatekapua. In your role you also farewelled hundreds of sons and daughters of Te Arawa, including prominent kuia and kaumatua.
But I don't believe you made any distinction when someone was lying in state in the meeting house. You treated them all with equal respect.
I think you would have been proud of the Kaikaranga who shared the role at your tangi. They gave their best because it was you they were honouring. I don't think there will be too much, if any, flexibility from them either.
Moe mai, Aunty Milo, moe mai.
