Though I’ve never met her, sometimes I feel I knew her.
Moky died two years ago today. I never met her, but I have met her astonishingly gifted children, two daughters and a son. Through them, I’ve learned about Moky.
Moky was brilliant, creative, thrifty, witty and occasionally acerbic.
She was a woman who delighted in her garden and the outdoors, had a keen sense of justice, intolerance for bad art, a wicked sense of humour, a taste for good sherry and cheap wine.
Moky was generous, recognized potential in discarded furniture, loved the colour blue, appreciated ballet, and treasured adventure… whether within her neighbourhood or by travelling afar.
She revered and supported libraries, loved old movies and great musical classics.
Moky was a strong woman, given to strong opinions easily shared.
She welcomed the whole wide neighbourhood into her home every Christmas with a full- blown party, delightful food and plentiful wine, live music and shared song.
Moky loved her children above all else, as in turn, her daughters and son so clearly love and adore theirs, her five grandchildren.
I never met Moky but I wish I had.