Hubris

We have always known that Karen would have a shortened life, so in my own way of dealing with that, I have been writing this speech in my head for over 25 years. That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to do now.

Even a few weeks ago when the doctors said “it’s going to be months to a year left”, I still thought there was a pretty good chance she’d outlive them purely out of spite. I could do a whole speech about the stubbornness of Karen, but as I write this I’m pretty sure everyone speaking before me will have already talked about her tenacity, so I will instead bring my perspective as her youngest sister. 

A couple of years ago I made her an advent calendar for Christmas, where each day was a happy memory of us together. I haven’t opened that document file because it’s enough material to make this talk all day long, but it does segue nicely into me talking about the creativity of her gifts. Though of course the past 20 years have featured a lot of book-shaped, book-sized parcels, Karen also excelled at the homemade. One year she surprised me with a duvet cover and pillow set she’d sewn that transformed my bed into a giant Totoro. She hunted down the exact Dick Bruna Happy Families card game we used to play as kids and replaced the incredibly problematic “ethnic” cards with pictures of our family instead – you’ll see this as her Facebook profile photo now. 

Possibly her greatest labour of love though was the Wow magazines she made for me when I was about 7 or 8, and she would have been 12-13. Every issue was handwritten, hand illustrated, and incredibly detailed. She made up pop charts, fake celebrities, whole days of tv listings of our favourite shows and new ones she created. There were whole cinematic universes going on in those things – Marvel could never. And every magazine had a competition I could enter as well, where I’d win handmade Jem & the Holograms comics and outfits for my Barbie, or sticker sets she drew or all kinds of other goodness. 

Everything Karen did, I wanted to emulate. Her Barbie was the Sea Queen? Well then mine would be the Ocean Princess. She named her Barbie Amanda after a girl we knew? My Barbie became Vanessa, the real life Amanda’s sister. The naming of our toys was incredibly important, and I suspect Karen still has the notebooks where she wrote down the intricate family trees and scandals of all our Playmobil. Karen didn’t like to let things go. Once when my mother donated some old stuffed animals to a school jumble sale, Karen bought them back.  

It was hard sometimes being five years younger than her when she was only two years younger than Anji, and I got jealous of the closeness of their relationship, especially when they would gossip washing the dishes together every night, or when there wasn’t a part in ‘I know him so well’ for me to sing on car trips. I was stuck being the bratty littlest sister when I desperately wanted to be cool too. 

But of course having an older sister had its advantages. The absolute FIERCENESS of Karen roaring with rage at another kid who’d accidentally hit me with their bag will always stick in my mind. When my parents and I moved to Japan without my sisters – who were old enough to stay by themselves in our house in NZ –  Karen sent me my first bra after Mum insisted (correctly, I should add) that I didn’t actually need one. When I moved back, Karen was able to drive us to all the endless film festival movies we went to together, with enormous hot chocolates at Midnight Espresso afterwards. I’d get to to take me to Bar Bodega for gigs by Superette and Garageland, and buy me one malibu & coke. After she saw the movie ‘Leaving Las Vegas’ about a dying alcoholic, she refused to buy me alcohol again for a while, but luckily when she went overseas for her OE, her friends were still here. Purely coincidentally, Hi Anoushka! Lovely to see you again today though the reason why sucks.  

Karen and I started taking holidays together to a Pacific island every year after my friend won a wedding in Rarotonga from a radio station. I still feel sorry for semi celebrity DJ Robert Rakete who tried to make conversation at the dinner afterwards. When he found out Karen was a bookseller, he asked her all excitedly “Oh, have you read The DaVinci Code? It’s so great”. You can probably imagine how that went

She and I had a great system – I’d book the holiday, and she’d front the money to pay for it. She’d hold on to the passports and tickets, and I’d do all the talking. Luckily we both wanted basically the same thing – to lie in the sun, drink cocktails and point at fish while snorkeling and tell them we were going to eat them later. At one resort in Vanuatu we met a cat who might actually have been Karen in a previous life, because whenever Karen put her book down, the cat would sit on it. It didn’t matter where the book was – by the pool or the restaurant – the cat was on her book like a shot. It wasn’t the particular book the cat fancied either, because when I was reading that book later, the cat still preferred whatever Karen was reading. 

It was very handy having a bookseller for a sister. Karen and I had very similar taste, including both loathing one particular NZ classic which I won’t name here because I’m not sure who’s in the audience, though often I’d just ask her for something very easy to read with lots of sex. When we were young, our Opa had a whole extra lockwood house attached to their house without any interior walls that was his study, and it was completely filled with books. Anyone who’s been to Karen’s house will know she took that on as personal inspiration – so please do fill out the form to help us share out her taonga later! Whenever I wanted to tease her, which was most of the time, to be honest, I would threaten to break into her house and put all her books in colour order. 

Karen introduced me to a lot of my favourite authors, and I introduced to her to Douglas Coupland in return, and lot of music too. The number of not great gigs I dragged her to because of crushes I had on boys in the band – she really was much more patient and tolerant than I have been giving her credit for lately. Today you’re hearing musicians I know and love thanks to her, including Tori Amos, Suzanne Vega and Nick Cave, songs that Karen picked out in preparation for this very dumb day. 

Probably the most important thing I introduced Karen to though was a certain bearded gentleman that I used to go to quiz with every week at the Southern Cross. If Tom had known then about the family text chains he’d be unable to escape fifteen plus years later, he might not have been so attracted to the woman who fiercely debated Murakami vs David Mitchell (the author, not the quiz show panelist she also grew to love thanks to Tom), but guess what Tom? You’re stuck with us now. 

And here I must pay tribute to my darling friend who brought so much love and happiness to my darling sister. With COVID, Tom closed in his world to protect Karen, and we are so so grateful to him for that, and for loving her so completely. Thank you.

Although this past week has been unimaginably hard, it has also been so special to hear from so many people about how much they liked and admired Karen. She could be hard and prickly – because she was so soft and vulnerable inside. Hearing stories about how you all managed to get past her barriers to know her makes me so glad.  

I want to thank my sister Anji too, who is the best biggest sister. Anj, you certainly don’t have it easy, having to look after both Karen and I, and our two extremes of personality at times. But you have been such a fierce staunch advocate for Karen through all of this, and you are extraordinary. Thank you also Bambi for being there for all of us. 

And to my parents – I’m glad you were already pregnant with me when you found out Karen had CF, so that I could be here today. You’ve had so many battles over the past 49 years to get the right care for Karen – and to get her to accept that care as well sometimes. She knew you loved her, even if sometimes she seemed like an absolute brat. Thank you for giving me two fucking amazing sisters. All this sucks, but we are so lucky to have each other. 

My parents were with Karen when she came into the world, and almost 50 years later they were with her when she went out. She was infuriatingly stubborn, but she was beautiful and wonderful and ours and we love her so.