DAWN OPENS THE SKY
This is Huiaterangi Dawn. She is my Mum and she is fierce. On the cusp of 75 years old she does things that scare her. She has a brave heart and is the strongest person I know.
Here she is, looking like a Queen in Bicoli village, a little pocket of happiness we found on Halmahera in the Spice Islands. Not the most confident swimmer, susceptible to a little seasickness, she gave an instant “Hell Yes”, when asked if she might like to come on a sailing adventure far away in the deep corners of the tropics in West Papua.
Moments after I took this picture, she jumped on the back of a motorbike with a random local man, no English, no helmet, no worries. She handled it all like a boss. I am proud of her.
Mum has two beautiful names: Huiaterangi and Dawn. She goes by the latter, but embodies the first. Huia Te Rangi translates as ‘open the sky’. To me this interpretation captures how she has shaped and influenced my life. Mum taught me I could do anything; she taught me covertly by stealth and directly by example.
She modelled noble and decent traits: work hard, stretch yourself, look after your body, stay fit, eat well, be organised, try new things, be tidy, whānau is everything, laugh a lot, be positive, make heaps of friends, adventure heaps, love heaps, and laugh heaps. She showed me how to live a bloody good life. She opened the sky.
I love the word Dawn. Dawn is my favourite time of the day and Dawn also means the start of something: she was where I began - the start of me. I was born breech – backwards ever since, Dad liked to say. No painkillers back then; she showed me how tough she is, right from day one.
Mum, one half of a twinset, grew up poor, without knowing it at the time. This is something she and her four siblings now relate with out-of-control belly laughter and wild, animated re-enactments. I love these stories. Their obliviousness telling of the love they were wrapped in. Food was enough but not fancy, clothes were treasures but were shared, laughter was abundant, but whānau was everything. Singing, fun and hard work shaped them all into glorious humans who now have big, wild, wonderful families of their own.
As the story goes, my Dad fell in love with my Mum across the room, when he saw her playing guitar and singing at a party. Dawny has been an amazing Mum, but she has been an astounding wife. After years of fun and devotion, Dad was diagnosed with early onset dementia at 55 years of age. Dumb-mentia.
Both a gentle man and a gentleman, Dad always told Mum she looked beautiful, which she always did. As his recognition faded, his memory of his love for Mum did not. In a brutal twist of this A-hole of a disease, his comprehension of ‘Dawny’ became an image from years back when they were in their twenties. He was besotted, carrying around their wedding photos to show us his beautiful wife. This is bittersweet. This dick of a disease will break your heart. There is just one inch of comfort here, knowing you can forget how to put your underwear on but you won’t forget true love.
So as Mum nursed Dad for the next 15 or so years she took up two new pastimes: swearing and crying, two extracurricular activities she continues to this day. Growing up, I watched her try lots of new things. My Mum can do anything: cake decorating, calligraphy, badminton, basketball, squash, half marathons. She and her sisters spent a decade winning awards singing country music, and my Dad loved all this completely. Two things she has done once: raced a train and Tai Chi. Now she is learning to snorkel - what a champ.
Mum is lucky, meaning if she needs a frozen chicken, she goes to a quick-fire raffle to win one. She is tinny, a raffle winner, a new friend finder, a car park conjurer. She is blessed to see the world this way. I am lucky too, because she taught me how.
I inherited her strong thighs (good for snowboarding my father would kindly say), a little crease between brows when thinking, and perhaps the explorers gene, who knows about that. Transference of her loyalty, selflessness and tan, I am less convinced, those I need to strive for. She gifted me a deep love of music, her singing voice, I possess an ounce of nature, but mostly require nurture. I got her digestive system (slow) and her propensity to say yes to fun things (fast).
Ma is our Matriarch, always on the end of Messenger, a daily string of back and forths documenting our days. She spends her hours with family, volunteering with Hospice, Garden Club, reading, adventuring or savouring time with her special mokopuna (grandchildren). “They make my heart sing”, she messaged with photos. She takes the spirit of Dad wherever she goes, a shared email address (alandawn@), her wedding rings still worn, and on our recent adventure stating daily, “Dad would have loved this”. She also said, “ He would be so proud of me”. She is right.
Mum is part Māori and she belongs to the Ratana Church, her relationship to both ever unfolding. She has a strong back and a soft front. Mum is adventurous, open minded, brave and strong. She lets the right things go. Her cousins say she is brave, and she says all the right things when I send her photos of sore things.
Mum likes good food and she is pretty. An Aries – her element is fire. Mum likes to wear bright dresses. She has hundreds of them. She is a good sleeper, and a fun travel companion. Mum is generous with her time. She makes people gingernuts to thank them. She is a good sister, a grandma, a great-grandma and a special Mum. Dawn is fun and she has a good heart. She is unconditional love.
Ko Tamahanga tōna maunga
Ko Pākiri tōna awa
Ko Hauraki tōna moana
Ko Ōmaha tōna marae
Ko Ngāti Whātua, Ngāti Wai, Tuwharetoa tōna iwi
Tamahanga is her mountain
Pākiri is her river
Hauraki is her ocean
Ōmaha is her marae
Ngāti Whātua and Ngāti Wai are her iwi (tribes)
