An epiphany often arrives when we least expect it. We were about to leave for a short holiday, taking advantage of the days before Holy Week. However, our plans were abruptly changed by a sorrowful phone call: Margaret had passed away—Steve’s beloved aunt and his mother’s sister.
We took a flight from Auckland to Queenstown, but due to strong winds, the plane couldn’t land and had to return to Auckland. We waited for a new flight that same evening. Because of this delay, we arrived just as the coffin was being placed into the hearse for its final journey through Margaret’s beloved Tuatapere.
The funeral was officiated by a dear friend of Margaret’s. One by one—her children, nieces and nephews, grandchildren, former students, and close friends—began piecing together the mosaic of her extraordinary life. A life full of passion and complete dedication to her community. It was hard to keep up with the countless organizations and groups she had been part of: the community garden, the RSA (a veterans’ association), the local historical archive—just to name a few that I can still recall.
She had devoted her life to education, particularly cooking and pottery. Her home was always a safe and welcoming place for all who entered. In recent years, even as her health declined, she continued to follow us on Facebook, always cheering on our projects and initiatives.
The day after the burial, we visited her home—every corner still breathing Aunt Margaret’s presence. Her massive garden, lovingly cultivated over the years, where she harvested fruits and vegetables to create the most extraordinary chutneys and jams, which we all looked forward to enjoying every year. A library overflowing with cookbooks of every kind. And what always struck me the most: her pottery. It was rustic, creative, and beautiful, each piece with a signature touch that unmistakably marked them as Margaret’s creations.
Dear Aunt Margaret, through your life you have become, for me, an epiphany of what I hope my own life might become in the years ahead: a life deeply connected to the earth we inhabit—to its plants, trees, and birds, which for you were trustworthy guides to living in harmony with the changing seasons. From them, you learned to savour the peace of a gentle afternoon and to be resilient and defiant in the face of life’s storms.
The clay whispered the beauty that it held, and you brought it forth with grace. The birds visited your garden with their songs, knowing they had found in you a faithful guardian. You were a woman of family and community, sharing generously the gifts life had bestowed on you. No pretense—just a life rooted in the land and in love for its people.
