Today I got up at 5:00am in order to be fully ready for the funeral of my dear friend Is Szoneberg in Hawick, Scotland. I joined the funeral by Zoom, with a perspective from the rear of the hall, and even without the intimacy of sitting among loved ones, I was profoundly moved by the service. It opened with Elvis singing “Only Fools Rush In.” Is requested we wear pink, her favorite color. Our colleague and friend Jane told me that she wore pink under her scrubs at work this morning, since she had to miss the service.
It was conducted by a Humanist celebrant, which means no mention of any gods or religion – just to my taste. The facilitator is a lesbian and she was able to convey an accurate and authentic impression of our Is (Isobel; Isabella) and of her commitments to her sweet wife Anne (“my best girl” she always said) and to the community of women. It was an exquisite, heartfelt celebration.
Is and Anne pushed past every obstacle to social recognition of their love over decades. When civil unions were finally available, they got a civil union. When marriage was finally available, they got married. They were fully committed and they wanted the world to know.
Is got a form of cancer that is a silent killer and by the time it was found, it was much too late to do anything about it. She was sent home to receive palliative care and to say her goodbyes. Is wrote to tell me the bad news and Anne facilitated a phone conversation between Is and me that lasted three quarters of an hour. I thought I’d be able to have one more call with her, but she was already unresponsive the following week.
When I got the job as London Manager at CSV (Community Service Volunteers) in 1991, Is was then Scotland Manager. We bonded very quickly, being the only two lesbian managers in this large UK non-profit. Her wit and her sincerity won her great popularity on the Management Team. Everyone appreciated her remarkable ability to use good humor to calm down disagreements in the Team.
Is and I socialized outside of work when she was in London or when I visited her in in the north of England, where she was living when we first met. My first experience of karaoke was when Is, after some liquid encouragement, was persuaded to take the mic in a bar there and let loose.
Fast forward a decade, during which both of us earned multiple promotions, when due to some so-called “re-structuring,” all middle managers were let go, myself included.
Because I was in my 50s, it was hard to find another job and I began to freak out. I had been supporting myself since the age of 17 and it was terrifying to be out of work. Is began to call me daily. I mean every single solitary day. She called me without fail for almost a year until I finally accepted a job in the States and flew to Boston. I will never forget that profound act of kindness and support, her sense of solidarity and friendship, her generous love. I will never forget Is.
What a wonderful friendship. So sorry for your loss, Katz.
Posted by: Gema M Gray | 08 November 2021 at 20:33
This is a beautiful tribute to your wonderful friend. I am so sorry that you have lost her. Sending you warm condolences.
Posted by: Jane Heaney | 08 November 2021 at 21:00