Melinda Bennett was an inspiring figure in the Hawke's Bay community. Photo / Paul Taylor
Melinda Bennett was an inspiring figure in the Hawke's Bay community. Photo / Paul Taylor
The last laugh I got out of Lindy was when I realised she shared the same birthday as my first ex-husband, and I observed that I liked her much more than I did him.
A cheeky smile wobbled up with a naughty glint shining in her eyes; the stroke might have been catastrophic, but it wasn't going to take her humour away easily.
Hawke's Bay woman Melinda Bennett, 40, died peacefully on Friday shortly after hearing her dad tell her for the last time that he loved her oh so very much.
She briefly opened her eyes and then Steven's beloved daughter slipped away. She was ready to rest, after a short lifetime of constant bravery.
Lindy, as we called her, had really dialled up her naughtiness in her last years and this felt directly aligned with the declination of her failing human shell.
Diagnosed at just 10 years of age with rare genetic disease Friedreich's ataxia, she was given a life expectancy of only 20.
In what became typical Lindy fashion, she raised her middle finger towards the suggested expiry date and wrote her own future instead with a huge smile.
Melinda Bennett, left, with the author Jenene Crossan. Photo / Supplied
Her favourite bloom was the sunflower and for fitting reasons; she told me that they grow towards the sun by facing the light.
She loved the simple poetic inspiration a sunflower brought her and it became her symbol.
They filled her home, a unit that had everything she needed within arm's reach and in spite of being wheelchair-bound and with most of her senses depleted (speech, hearing, eyesight), she remained steadfast that she would maintain her independence.
"You're not sticking me in with the oldies!" - this mandate was respected right up until the end.
Her stubborn streak, a character trait we all loved so much in her, underpinned the grit she displayed every day to simply get through and do things which "normies" like us wouldn't even give a second thought to. She would hand-make necklaces for us, taking hours of painstaking work, "bead by f****** bead", as she put it. She knew the importance of digging deeper, she was her own saviour.
Her social media personality was vibrant and energetic, most followers not knowing the severity of her reality. Lindy was always upbeat, full of praise for those around her and with a clear message of "I've got this". She even took time to express her concern for others' health.
It's easy to get sucked into the "poor Lindy" rhetoric, but I wonder if the balance of the world order sometimes requires empathy beacons to exist.
God knows why, or at least she hoped so. I think that's what led her down the celestial path eventually, the desire to understand her purpose.
Lindy might not have been afforded the same able-bodied opportunities as others, but she added more value than most.
She served and she served, taking very little in return. She just wanted everyone around her to be happy and safe and she checked in on those she loved regularly.
I imagine this was a deliberate decision she made, a commitment to her spirit about the mode she was going to operate on. I don't believe this came from not wanting people to take pity on her (which she detested the idea of), but actually instead a very sharp mind that didn't want to be dulled.
Her intellect was her greatest asset, and one she was not going to easily let go of. She fought for it every day, sharpening it with what she read, how she interacted and what she enabled it to be exposed to.
Thinking back on it now, I recall the morning I met her and musing to my husband, Scottie, "that girl is going to break my heart one day".
And sadly Lindy, today as I write this for you, is that day. I wrote this while flying home from saying my final goodbye to you.
I tore myself away a week before she died, and then because of locked-down Auckland it was fated to be our last time together.
We spent the better part of a week together, stroking your hair, singing Elton John songs, massaging your hands and making you smile cavorting through the halls of Cranford Hospice in a ballgown.
My heart is broken, but my spirit fixed, that's the impact you had.
That girl fixed me, she directed me to my own purpose, as she did for so many people. I know we always speak highly of the deceased, but she really earned it.
Goodbye my sunflower, I'll see you in the sunsets of Piha beach and live by the guidance you gave me; with empathy, kindness and hope in the face of all adversity.
