The year is 1968 in Dublin. 

“I have invited this lovely 18 year old Czech girl, called Dana, around for lunch,” said my 25 year old flat mate Rick. He had met her on a protest march against the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, of which she and her family were refugees. "For heavens sake she’s still at school", I said. "Are you sure that’s legal?”

3 years later Dana and I were married in The University Church in Dublin. She was 21, a respectable age for marriage in those days. 

Dana’s father was a real gentleman. He would open doors for ladies and give up his seat on a train or bus even in his eighties. He handed on his smile, his brain and his concern for others, to his daughter. It was Dana’s mother who gave Dana her enquiring mind and warmth.

We started our married life in Wellington New Zealand where I worked at the Treasury and Dana at the Department of Employment forecasting how many nurses, doctors, dentists and plumbers New Zealand would need over the next 20 years. But such work did not really interest her. Art and History were her real love, inherited from her grandmother who had often taken her as a child to Museums and galleries in Prague. But instead of pursuing a career she chose to have a family and devoted her life to their needs and mine and to the 8 grandchildren that followed. Mimi, as they call her, was the centre and indeed the rock of the family. We were everything to her. And indeed she was everything to us. We respected and adored her.

Our home on Waiheke Island was the setting for many memorable family Christmas holidays. Her nightly foot massages for the grandchildren are legendary but she saw them as an occasion to have special time on her own with them. They loved her for that attention. 

In her fifties when the children had flown the nest she trained to be a yoga teacher, becoming very successful at it ; it also brought her some close friends. I shall never forget a lovely sunny day in the garden at Eastwick Road with her yoga class sitting in the garden on their mats while Dana’s yoga mat was occupied by Meesha the Labrador and Toffee the feral cat. 

Dana had a lovely attribute of greeting or welcoming people in a very genuine way and always with that warm smile. Indeed she was so welcoming that it could take ten minutes for visitors to get from the front door to the sitting room. And if she was cooking that evening she would forget all about the meal as she chatted away with friends while I tried to rescue whatever was on the stove. But above all, as a dear friend wrote to me, “we shall remember Dana as a shining example to us all:steadfast, kind, generous and full of fun, a beautiful and gentle person who influenced all our lives.”

We loved her charming English slip ups. Whether she was hitting the head on the nail, wrecking her brains or making a Halloween costume for Daniel out of crap paper, she was always happy to laugh at herself. 

From the moment she knew that her cancer was incurable she was brave, determined to live as normal a life as possible and always with a thought for others.

She was very happy to end her days in the hospice. I have this lovely memory of her receiving a foot massage from Kate, with the diffuser puffing out a scent of lavender and Andrew reading to her about the history of Istanbul. The only thing missing was a glass of bison vodka in her hand. 

She took a lot of strength from the various kindnesses of friends. Your visits, emails and texts helped greatly in keeping her spirits up and also in reminding me just how lucky I have been to be her soul mate for the past 47 years. Thank you so so much.