She was my neighbour while I lived in Orkney, for only a couple of years, but they were probably the most difficult 2 years of my life. Shortly before we met, and became neighbours, I had given birth to my 3rd child, and had, again, bad post natal depression. 6 months following the birth, my only parent, my mother, had died, with only about 4 months warning. To say I was in a bad place is a gross understatement! We were such different people, but Etta's great gift was that she loved - everyone, and she wrapped me in that love, and stopped me from drowning in my pain and self judgement. She loved as one should, seeing all the frailties and foolishnesses, but accepting and forgiving them, doing all within her power to hold up the good in all she encountered.
Etta had barely left the Islands, going to mainland Scotland in her youth, where she met the lovely George, who was from Peterhead (his Peterhead dialect, combined with the Orcadian lilt he acquired, made him almost incomprehensible to we southerners, till you got the rhythm of it!) and only went to town about once a week, to do her messages, but she was wiser by far, than many I've known with the widest experience and the finest of educations. She, and her mother, Granny, fed and nourished the whole of the world they touched, with pancakes and their love, and the world is so much a pooer place without them.
In 1981, my relationship with my partner had broken down to the point that he had convinced me I was an unfit mother, and my children would be better off without me, and I moved out of my little home next to Etta & George, and struggled to find a new sense of myself, a way forward. I remember, vividly, standing on the edge of a very high cliff, that autumn, looking down at the waves pounding the rocks below, and thinking how easy it would be to just take that step forward, and put an end to it all - I was convinced of my unsuitability as a mother, my partner (father of 2 of my 4 children) would look after the children, no one needed me at all (this wasn't mere self pity, I truly believed I was that unworthy of existence) Then Etta's face rose in my mind, how much she loved me, how disappointed in me she would be, and how hurt she would be - and I couldn't let her down. I had to fight this, for her, who, alone in my life's experience, had loved me without condition.
After I left Orkney we didn't keep in touch much, neither of us was good at writing letters, or making chatty, gossipy phone calls, it wasn't that kind of friendship. But when I was able, I would go knock on her door, and we would put our arms around each other, and I felt safe again. I will never feel that kind of safe now - but worse, neither will George or her 3 lovely children, and their children. Many, many hearts are wounded, and will be weeping at her graveside tomorrow.
