The public memorial celebration for Mary will be held at the Ernespie House Hotel, Castle Douglas on January 14th 2022 at 1.30pm, following a short private cremation.
Kindly email us at maryscelebration@stewartry.co.uk as soon as possible if you are able attend to help us ensure a safe event. On Mary’s request, there is no formal dress code.
We hope you will be able join us for a celebration of Marys life, in person or watch the live stream online at: https://www.stewartry.co.uk/mmc.html
The post that no one wanted to read. I have to tell you that Mary died at the back of 7am on Christmas Day.
She started her next journey peacefully, without pain or breathlessness and being lovingly cared for.
Despite Mary preparing us we are still in shock as I expect you will be. The support and love she received from you all was as amazing as her care for everyone she reached.
The DH
Notification of the time of the memorial celebration will be posted here along with a link to stream it when it is arranged.
Well, I’m on the home stretch now; the finishing line very much in sight.
Nothing is quite as expected, though. From early on I had made my wish to die at home be known but here I am in a bed in the Alexandra Unit, which provides palliative care and is the nearest thing we have in Dumfries & Galloway region to hospice provision.
Anyway, the change of plans was my choice. At home, although they would take every possible care to have the drugs I would need when the pain became more severe, I wasn’t going to have someone 24/7 with the key to the locked cabinet. I didn’t want to behave all undignified if I couldn’t get my drugs!
I was mentally preparing some funny stories to share with you (like the woman who wanted a cleaning job but not when she was a bit busy near Christmas) but it’s late and I need to take my ‘breakthrough’ morphine dose (learning the lingo!) which I’ve delayed to get this wee post out there. I’ll try to remember them – not that I’ll be seeing my house again, dirty or otherwise.
My son is home. He came down after my weekend flight and decorated the Christmas tree and made such a lovely job I realised I should have had him doing it every year! I think I issued a challenge to him and his partner to a game of Rummy. And my sister’s dog is wondering why she’s never been invited on hospital visits before now. Patients have treats hidden all over the place!
Wishing each and every one of you a happy festival time and many thanks for all your support and love.
In my last post I said my next one would be about the discussion with the oncologist. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll put up a cancer update soon, but in the meantime, I want to introduce you to a special person who is part of my extended Afghan family. In fact, I’m going to let her do the introduction herself but before she does, I’ll fill in a bit of our shared family history.
I met Sausan’s grandfather, Jawad in the Jaghori district of Ghazni province in 1989, the year the Soviets left Afghanistan, when he came to work as a driver for the leprosy/tuberculosis NGO (non-government organisation) for which I was joint co-ordinator. Later, he moved to an administrative role in Quetta, Pakistan, which was, at the time, our operational base.
His family joined him in Quetta. They were among the first visitors when my son was born. I remember looking at Jawad’s wife as she held him and seeing the longing in her eyes. I was pretty sure another addition to their growing family would be coming along. Jawad didn’t think so – I was right!
Shahnaz, Jawad’s daughter, holding David soon after he came home from the maternity hospital – 30 years ago!David’s birthday – 21st March – is also the Afghan New Year. This embroidered cloth was a gift to him from Jawad’s wife on his first birthday.Exquisite embroidery in each corner of the cloth.
It became clear we had to move operations to Afghanistan or risk being robbed every time we shipped medicines and supplies across the border. In 1993, Jawad went ahead, finding a suitable building in the northern city of Mazar-i-Sharif and I followed with David/Daud, who was then two years old.
The children playing together on a picnic in Balkh, described by Marco Polo as a ‘noble and great city’. Jawad being used as a climbing frame! The noble and great city was renowned, in our time, for its delicious kebabs.
When I returned to Scotland, there was no Facebook – very few people even emailed – and keeping in touch wasn’t easy but we always managed. Taliban came to power and the family escaped to Pakistan. The DH, David and I went to Pakistan several times to meet up.
After Taliban was pushed out (temporarily as it turned out) Jawad and family moved back to Afghanistan, to Kabul. Mustafa and his sister Shahnaz won scholarships to India and we visited Mustafa there (regretting we didn’t have enough time to visit Shahnaz as well). We also returned to Afghanistan for an all-too-brief reunion.
Time together in a recreation park near Kabul when we visited in 2006.Farid, Mustafa and David in Kabul, opposite the museum.
Mustafa later did his Masters in the UK. His parents looked forward to seeing him graduate and we looked forward to a grand reunion over here. However, when the hoops the British government made his parents jump through for a visa became unsurmountable we went to Bristol to be there for him.
Mustafa’s Graduation day in Bristol
Jawad’s son Murtaza was the first to be married and he moved to America where he and his wife Soraya live in Connecticut. It is their daughter who adds the next link in the family chain. She and I ‘met’ when she visited Kabul earlier this year for her aunt’s wedding and we chatted on a video call after she’d read my book and had some questions for me.
Here she is:
“I am Sausan Farhnaz Jawad. I was born in Hartford, Connecticut USA, July 2nd 2010. Originally I am from Afghanistan, Jahgori District where my father, Murtaza Ahmadi, was born.
My grandfather, Jawad Ahmadi, was running an international NGO (LEPCO) to treat leprosy and tuberculosis in the very remote area in central highlands of Afghanistan.
I live in Simsbury, CT. I have gone to Afghanistan two times, already. Kabul the capital of Afghanistan is surrounded by high mountains. My last visit to Kabul was in May 2021 to attend the wedding of my aunt which was held in a very nice wedding hall.
Unfortunately, I could not attend the wedding of my uncle which was held on August 8th. It was celebrated in Kabul’s famous garden, Bagh-i Babur (a very old and famous garden, where the Mogul Emperor Babur, one of the Genghis Khan’s descendants, is buried.) The reason I could not attend my uncle’s wedding was because Afghanistan was having trouble with the Taliban and the flights were cancelled. If I went to his wedding I would be stuck In Afghanistan. Luckily, my grandparents and the newlyweds left the country. But sadly, some of my grandparents’ relatives are still stuck in Afghanistan.
My family nation is Hazara. This is a tribe mixed with Mongol and Turkish which is living in the centre of Afghanistan.”
You may be wondering, why this post now? Since Taliban once again took control of Afghanistan earlier this year I’ve turned down several invitations to speak in public about the situation and I’ve not written about it on my blog. I couldn’t. I was too angry and heartbroken to find a way to talk about it. Taliban’s takeover and the plight of those desperate to leave the country were on the front pages of our newspapers until the day the last soldier left Afghanistan. After that Afghanistan stories were found half way through the paper – scarcely newsworthy.
Jawad’s family and mine have been friends over many years and across many miles. I really hope people reading this will see individual people not a faceless mass of ‘refugees’ or ‘asylum seekers’ – real people.
Our friendship will last as long as I do and be remembered for even longer and I look forward to more conversations with the youngest (for now) in the family – the delightful Sausan.
And I hope with all my heart that one day Jawad’s family will reunite in Afghanistan, an Afghanistan free from Taliban.
Sunday, 18 April: I recently told the world how devastated I was when I lost one of a pair of earrings gifted by my friend Sue Vincent. As always, the response was overwhelming with many people sharing heart-warming stories of treasures lost and found, hopes, wishes, prayers and practical tips for finding the earring.
One friend, jeweller Amanda Hunter, said she’d try to make a replacement for me if I sent her the remaining earring and another, retired farmer (they never actually do retire, though!) John Nelson said he’d bring his metal detector round.
Around 4.30pm on Friday John appeared with the metal detector. Until I lost a tiny earring I’ve always thought of my garden as being small but it suddenly looked dauntingly enormous.
I showed John where I’d been mainly working the day the earring was lost and I’d even kept two black sacks of grubbed up things instead of putting it all in the compost bin. I was convinced if the earring was going to be found it would be in one of those black sacks. It wasn’t.
It wasn’t to be found on the lawn though there were lots of bleeps but much further down than the earring would have got.
It was much later when John said he’d do one last sweep along a gravel path. I couldn’t believe it when he said: “There it is.” And there it was, just lying on top of the gravel. I’d walked over the path several times since I lost the earring and I’d sat on the tree stump (old apple tree that had honey fungus), scarcely a foot from where John found it, drinking my coffee and didn’t spot it.
The tree stump which provides a sunny seat for late morning coffee – hardly a foot from where the earring lay
In normal circumstances, I’d have hugged him – in pandemic mode I could only repeat my thanks over and over while remaining socially distanced. Something like this really brings home how strange the world in which we live has become.
So tiny – so much of a miracle it has been found. I still tear up.
Both earrings are sitting on my desk as I type this. I can still hardly believe the lost one is back again. What were the odds of finding it? I really have no idea. I think it was pretty miraculous (but don’t want John to get big-headed!).
Was Sue up to mischievous tricks as some blog followers (who knew her well) suggested? I don’t know but the red kite which has been appearing over my garden every evening around 6pm for several days failed to put in an appearance on Friday.
I know it’s a bit soon for another cancer diary update but I’m fairly sure everyone would want to share in the fantastic news about my earring.
Artist Silvana McLean sadly passed away last year and The Whitehouse Gallery in Kirkcudbright, south west Scotland is paying tribute to this wonderful artist with a solo exhibition of her work.
credit Euan Adamson
As well as a large collection of Silvana’s prints and original paintings, there will also be items on loan from her family, such as a much treasured painting called ‘The Lighthouse’, which was part of Silvana’s school work, submitted in her application to Art School.
Fold (This is my favourite painting. I could lose myself in it forever)
Something very special to me will also be on display – a portfolio of Silvana’s prints accompanied by five of my poems. This was the result of an arts project on which Silvana and I collaborated.
In 2007 when we were commissioned by Scottish Natural Heritage to work on a project called ‘Voices of Glentrool & Merrick’ Silvana and I had never met, but there was an immediate rapport which led to a lasting friendship. The project was designed to reconnect people to the landscape around Glentrool, including the village purpose built to house forestry workers.
The completed work, which was based on stories and memories from the people interviewed, was the portfolio of Silvana’s etchings and my poems. A small pamphlet of the images and poems was also printed. The portfolios were placed in a number of public venues including visitor centres in Galloway, Newton Stewart Library, Ewart Library in Dumfries and the Scottish Poetry Library in Edinburgh and National Library of Scotland. Silvana also presented everyone who had taken part in the interviews with one of the limited edition prints at a launch event in June 2008.
When we began the project we each went off to do our research, explore the landscape and, in my case, interview people who lived or had worked in the area. As well as emailing updates to each other we met meet regularly to exchange information and ideas. I vividly remember the first time we met in the Glentrool Visitor Centre, to report back on our initial findings. We were both fizzing with excitement – and we fizzed very happily over huge and delicious scones. ‘Ruthy’s’ scones we discovered were extremely conducive to creative collaboration and to cementing friendship.
Loch Trool, Dumfries & Galloway. Who couldn’t find inspiration here?
Silvana went to view the Silver Flowe, an area of bog land, which gets its name because from high on the hills above, the pools of water look like silver.
On the Silver Flowe (credit Silvana McLean)
When I met her afterwards, she was bouncing with excitement and ideas. Of course, she hadn’t just wanted to see it from above but to experience it herself. Luckily, she had a guide from the Forestry Commission because this unique bog is a treacherous place for the unwary.
Silvana had always been fascinated by the remoter islands and seaboards of Scotland and Ireland and her work reflects the stark beauty of these coastlines. The Glentrool project provided the impetus to head even further north to Iceland. A few years after we’d worked together I interviewed Silvana for a magazine feature in which she explained: “The research into the geology and glacier activity which formed the hills was a vital stepping stone. People who lived on that land were shaped by the forces that shaped the landscape. I was fascinated by how glaciation created the landscape and I thought – Iceland – that’s got glaciers – let’s go and see. I think you should always follow your instinct.”
Fjord
After her first visit, Silvana was in thrall to Iceland’s landscape and she returned several times, including for a five-week residency in the winter with snow all around her. Not that the cold would worry Silvana. Despite her Mediterranean background (her mother was born in Rome) she always felt more of a connection to cooler climes.
Our friendship continued after the project. A catch up for coffee could segue seamlessly into lunch because we had so much to talk about. We both had cats. We both had fathers with dementia. In fact, Silvana was sure one her cats had dementia, too. We still talked about geology and glaciers and tectonic plates. One day, I hope I will go to Iceland and see for myself the landscape, which so enthralled Silvana, with its volcanoes and glaciers re-forming and shifting.
Fractured Landscape
The Whitehouse Gallery exhibition opens on Saturday 2nd February at 11am and runs until 23rd. Four local makers who Silvana greatly respected have been invited to take part in this exhibition, each taking inspiration from Silvana and her work. These include Amanda Simmons (glass), Lizzie Farey (willow sculpture), Ruth Elizabeth Jones (ceramics) and Hannah McAndrew (ceramics).
If you are anywhere near Dumfries & Galloway do go and see it. If you can’t visit the area you can see some of Silvana’s work on the website gallery along with work by the four other makers.
Silvana’s own website remains as a testament to her many talents and achievements.
The world lost a remarkable artist and a truly beautiful person when Silvana McLean passed away in 2018. And I lost a wonderful friend.
Mary Smith's Place 