Rae and Barry's Excellent Adventure: RIP Jan Wilson

We remind ourselves that everyone dies, and a small voice inside demurely agrees, ‘Everyone.’ Then it whispers, ‘Everyone—except me.’ How can we imagine the end of imagining, the end of the conversation with ourselves which guides us through the world?

—Inga Clendinnen

‘About Bones’ in The Penguin Book of Death

Funerals are whimsical beasts, a chimaera concocted of grief, despair, and loss—along with laughter and happy memories shared with loved ones. I attended the funeral of a dear friend from Bega, Mona Stilling, in 1984. At the wake somebody said, ‘If only Mona were here, she’d be having such a great time’. The same thought crossed my mind about Jan.

She lived for her family and just adored Paul, her husband of 43 years. As we walked into the chapel, a lone piper played The Skye Boat Song. Jan’s white coffin was draped with red sweet peas. I know they were her favourite flowers. During the eulogy I shared some of our life growing up together, and later a couple said they didn’t know Jan had played the bagpipes in the Orange Pipe Band. I mentioned Jan’s best friend from across the road in Franklin Road Orange, Sue Bargwana, not knowing she was there. Jo, Jan’s younger daughter read a moving poem. Amy and Ryan stood with their mum Kylee while Amy told of their love for their Nan and how much they will miss her. Afterwards Kylee gave me a bunch of the sweet peas, just as the family released blue balloons to the haunting notes of Amazing Grace.

Rae, Jan and Helen Keegan

Jan’s parents, Madge and Bill Marston married in 1943. At the time, Madge’s son Ted was thirteen. I went to live with them a year later. When I was five, Madge mysteriously disappeared and came home with Jan, so Ted and I had a baby sister. I have a vague memory of sitting down and Jan being put into my arms and marvelling at her long skinny fingers, and being allowed to push her up to Cook Park in the cane pram, a couple of blocks from where we lived.

Jan in front of the sweet peas at Christmas

Ted built a see-saw in our backyard. Helen Keegan from next door used to come and play. When Jan was around five we moved from the rented house in 72 Clinton Street to 114 Franklin Road. We experienced the kind of idyllic childhood people are striving for now. We could ride our bikes around until dark; and we were almost self-sufficient. Madge and Bill had a huge block of land. Bill looked after the vegetables out the back and Madge the flowers out the front. She planted sweet peas on St Patrick's Day. Ted and Bill built a chook yard and made a cubby house in the corner of the 6’ paling fence for us. We had a table and chairs, tea-set, books and dolls, and spent weeks there until the spiders moved in.

Bill at the Orange Show

Bill was an auctioneer at ‘R. Barr, Marston and Co.’ in Lords Place Orange. People came for miles around to listen to him. There’s a story I wrote about him published in The Complete Book of Blokes and Sheds.

Jan and Madge at the Orange Show

Madge was a fantastic cook, always winning prizes at the Orange Show. She made jams and preserves, made all our clothes, brushed our hair every night and wound our hair in rag curls. Our life revolved around the Presbyterian Sunday School and the Caledonian Society. Jan and I both learned Highland Dancing. About ten years ago I found out we don't have one iota of Scottish blood; it must have been better to be born in Glasgow rather than Ballymena working on the gold diggings at Lambing Flat in 1861.

One Saturday Madge was making her famous marshmallow cake for Robbie Burns night. The cake layer had a dozen eggs, then a marshmallow layer topped with chocolate icing. I heard Jan laughing and went into the kitchen. Madge had gone outside and marshmallow was spinning out from the Sunbeam mixer splatting all over her and around the kitchen. We didn’t think to turn it off and just stood there helplessly laughing. Madge was not pleased.

Jan and Rae Bogan Street Parkes

I went to live in Parkes with Madge’s sister Anne when I was fifteen, but Jan often came to Parkes for holidays. Our cousin Keith was the same age as her. Jan was bridesmaid at our wedding in Parkes and a year later came to live with us in our flat in Crows Nest. (See Vale Janette Wilson blog.)