Colin Rangi Bryce

My first memory of Uncle Colin was when he and Aunty Jenny owned the dairy on Bealey ave and going into the store and being awe of all the lollies but knowing Uncle Colin's sharp eyes would catch me if I tried to take one. The school holidays, in the 70s, coming down from Northland and him teaching me photography and the magic of his dark room & being very kind about the terrible photos I'd taken of Michael and Gregory; the hours in his artist studio and his patience with showing me how to draw faces - I can still do the best eyes, nose and lips on a face thanks to him. I'm sure he was genuinely pleased with how well I did a likeness of Sheryll - that's beautiful, he said. Because of course, we both knew she was. At the drop of a hat, driving to Hawarden to collect me as a distressed 16 year old when the short time at my father's home turned disastrous and then a year later, after a harrowing session with the state's psychologist saying words which have propelled me to do as he said in response to their report that I would never amount to anything: I know it's wrong; you know it's wrong; you prove them bastards wrong." He screwed up the paper and turfed it out the window of his beloved Jag. Later, good long conversations where he told me about his life. The things he was proud of. The things he did, he was not and his regret over failing. And his determination to make it up for the 'dumb mistakes' as he called them. I wove some of those stories into my novel 'Runaway' because I wanted a part of him to live forever. Many times, Uncle Colin and Aunty Jenny showed such manaakitanga as they let me come stay for extended periods during my teens. Later, when I had a family of my own, they welcomed the girls just as warmly and sincerely. They adored Uncle Colin as I did; love and admire Aunty Jenny too. My youngest daughter said today when I told her the news: Nikki [his wee dog] will be pleased to see him. I'm sorry I can't be there for you Aunty Jenny, Sheryll, Tony, Gregory, Michael. Sending aroha to you all and the whanau pani. Moe mai rā, e te Rangatira. Haere ki tērā taha o te arai, okioki atu ai.