I’ve spent a silly amount of time trying to figure out how to start this piece, classic Tanya has already written a heap, but figured out the start would be future Tanya’s problem. It’s me, hi, I’m future Tanya.

That’s the thing yeah? There is no cool or smooth way to start talking about death, you’d think I’d have the hang of it by now though. I don’t. Anyway, bandaids and what not.

Last week my Godmother, Carla, passed away. She was 64.

Carla, and her son, Matt, were our closest “found family” growing up. Carla was one of mum’s closest friends, they lived together in their teens (which was a fact Karly and I were reminded of every school day, when mum would drive past and point out their flat).

Carla and Matt lived in Bendigo, so we’d only really get a chance to see them once or twice a year, but that just made seeing them more exciting. Matt was my surrogate brother, who would constantly beat me at Super Mario (and I would cry), he also had the technodrome ninja turtles toy which was the coolest thing 7 year old Tanya had ever seen (39 year old Tanya thinks it’s pretty cool too).

One thing that always stood out about Carla was her connection to nature. When I was younger, Carla and I were outside and a dragonfly flew up to me, in true Tanya fashion I shit myself and wanted to go inside, Carla stopped me and told me that dragonflies are beautiful and misunderstood – that they were a super important part of nature and the ecosystem. I still went back inside but every time I see a dragonfly (and I try to get away from it) I think of her.

Another time we were gardening in our front yard and she had picked up an earthworm from the soil. I, believe it or not, did not want anything to do with them, but Carla saw this as a learning moment and she told me that if we didn’t have worms life as we know it would stop, crops wouldn’t grow and our soil would be useless. I was a kid, so I’m sure my response would have been something like “yeah cool but they can stay away from me”.

On reflection though, these two stories perfectly sum up the essence of Carla. She saw beauty in the mundane, and the importance in the unnoticed.

She also had a way of making ordinary moments feel extraordinary. One particular memory stands out. It happened about 20 years ago when my sister, a couple of friends, and I were driving through Bendigo. Our car broke down and wouldn’t be fixed for a few days. The train home wasn’t till the next day. Without batting an eyelid, Carla took all four of us in, welcoming us with open arms. She made us cups of tea and stayed up chatting with us. She turned what I’m sure was an inconvenience into an adventure.

It’s the same story really, I wish I saw her more, I wish I spent more time with her as an adult, I wish I’d seen her in person in the last 10 years. Regret and sadness – a familiar taste in my mouth. Except, regardless of it all, I’m a better person for having known her, for having her in my life.

My love for her is not diminished by how regularly I saw her, her legacy lives on, not just in memories, but in the way I approach life – with a little bit of kindness and an appreciation for the little things.

Carla, thank you for being my godmother. Life continues, and I’ll carry your light with me every step of the way. Rest in peace.