It was always a real treat to spend time with my Auntie Frances. Growing up in Scotland, my brother, David, and I didn't see her as frequently as we'd have liked. But when we did, we'd be charmed by her warmth and enthusiasm for life. She loved to explore Scotland with us; we’d all pile into the car to visit landmarks, tour along the coast, or walk in parks.

Auntie was her own woman, but also a real people person. Over the years, she attentively followed our development and took a keen interest in our lives, always sending birthday cards, and we’d call, from time to time, to hear her voice. We’d love to hear her tales of travel to exciting European cities with Auntie Maureen, of art gallery visits in London when visiting Jean and Charlotte, and of her adventures with family and friends on the island that we so fondly remembered. 

As we were born when our cousins were already grown, we didn’t grow up as their peers. Auntie, though, always inspired connection by telling us about their endeavours and remarking on shared family traits. As our family unites now to say goodbye, it’s also a special occasion for me to share this moment with the people she loved so dearly. 

Fortunately, as an adult, I got to know my auntie more upon my visits -- we’d tour the island by foot, visiting her favourite local spots and chatting all the way. Her love for art and music would always impress me, and I’d be amazed by her in-depth knowledge of television series and film. I’d always go home with notes of what to watch next! 

These last years, coffee mornings with her and Uncle Brian at Seawood Cottage brought moments that I’ll cherish forever. Last summer, I most fondly recall meeting my cousin Siobhan and jumping in and out of the sea, while Auntie and Uncle Brian would do crosswords and pass the time side by side in the garden. We all ate together around the tide, and I listened intently to stories of their childhoods, stories that I couldn’t invent, of lives that I could never fully grasp, as there was never really enough time and always a yearning for more. 
Together, they made a great double act: Uncle Brian was droll and humorous, a marvellous raconteur, and Auntie wouldn’t let him miss a thing, always enhancing his tales with details! Now that they are both gone, there is a real sense of loss, for being with them always brought a sense of real gain. They were people that one wanted to be around.

David and I remember Auntie Frances as a kindred spirit, rather than a conventional auntie-figure. For us, Auntie Frances was someone we deeply admired and treasured every minute with. A sentiment that is surely shared by all.

Farewell, Auntie!

P.S. Here is a link to a short film I made with Auntie France and Uncle Brian: https://vimeo.com/570989568/ce95bb2133