Ᾱwhina was much in Kelly’s thoughts since that last visit to the hospital. He’d come away with a sense of foreboding and it was no surprise when Rāwiri told him she had died. Rāwiri turned up late for work and found Kelly mucking out the stables.
“Ᾱwhina’s passed away,” he said.
“Oh, Rāwiri, my condolences. Your dear mother. Our dear old Whaea.”
“They say she went peacefully in her sleep.”
Kelly leaned on the handle of his pitchfork and said, “Well, that’s a blessing,” and added, “I guess it was her time.”
“I think she knew it was her time,” Rāwiri said. “I sent a telegraph to Te Kuiti to let the whānau know.”
“She said she wanted to be buried in the Saint Mark’s cemetery, next to Quinn,” Kelly said, “so, Saint Mark’s Church.”
“That can be her final resting place,” Rāwiri agreed, “but first she needs to lie in state on a marae.”
“Where?” In Te Kuiti?”
“No, The Kīngitanga want to honour her by having the tangi at Waahi Pā, in Huntly.”
“Well, it’s closer to home at least,” Kelly said, “and on the railway. I’ll send food for catering.”
“All right,” Rāwiri agreed.
There seemed to be nothing more to say and they stood quietly for a moment till Kelly said, “I’ll get the clean hay.”
And Rawiri said, “I’ll go and make the arrangements.”
*
Rāwiri’s family and other whānau kept a vigil by the casket in the Waahi Pā wharenui for three days. Many of Ᾱwhina’s Ngāti Hauā iwi and Te Kuiti whānau, gathered at the marae, many kuia dressed all in black, Hērangi hapū, Te Puea, and other Waikato whānau. The mourners wept and wailed, made speeches and sang waiata. Meanwhile, in the wharekai, a small army of tangata whenua prepared food and kept the many manuhiri well fed. Altogether it was a send-off befitting a rangatira of te Ao Māori.
But Ᾱwhina also had an appointment to keep in the whare karakia of te Ao Pākehā. The casket was taken to St Mark’s Church for the Pākehā funeral. The Kelly family sat in their accustomed pew in the middle of the nave. Rāwiri sat at the front with his family and Wiremu and Hamana. A number of elderly parishioners and Christian Temperance Union members who remembered Ᾱwhina also came to pay their respects.
The vicar stood before the casket and greeted all who had come from near and far and the people stood as he began the liturgy:
We have come together
to remember before God the life of Ᾱwhina Quinn,
to commend her to God’s keeping,
to commit her body to be buried,
and to comfort those who mourn
with our sympathy and with our love;
in the hope we share
through the death and resurrection
of Jesus Christ.
Kelly’s gaze fell on the lights of the four candlestands placed in a cross formation around the casket, then on the familiar illuminated saints of the stained glass windows.
The vicar continued:
Gracious God,
surround us and all who mourn this day
with your continuing compassion.
Do not let grief overwhelm your children,
or be unending,
or turn them against you.
May we journey more peacefully because of today,
and come at last, in the fellowship of all your people,
to the haven where we long to be;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
It fell to Rāwiri to deliver the eulogy. He stood and addressed the congregation:
“I have been blessed to have had such a beautiful mother. I am her only child but she has been like a mother to many. She has been our Whaea. She was a woman of great learning and great faith and she put God first in all she did. Many credited her with the gift of prophecy and say she was a matakite. She was a Rangatira of great mana but so humble all her life. She worked tirelessly and generously in the service of our people and the pursuit of justice for our people. The cause most dear to her heart was the whenua, the land, our ancestral land. She often quoted the whakataukī:”
Whatungarongaro te tangata, toitū te whenua.
As man disappears from sight, the land remains.
“Now I shall read from Psalm 103:”
As a father has compassion on his children,
so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him;
for he knows how we are formed,
he remembers that we are dust.
The life of mortals is like grass,
they flourish like a flower of the field;
the wind blows over it and it is gone,
and its place remembers it no more.
“We pass away. The land remains. Our Whaea will not be forgotten.”
At the conclusion of Rawiri’s tribute to his mother, Maraea stood to sing a waiata and many joined in the singing.
Then Hamana rose to his feet to speak. “I have come to honour my tuāhine today, my sister.”
Kelly felt suddenly uneasy as he recalled the last time he had seen Hamana in the church.
“They say we Māori are a warrior race,” Hamana said. “It’s true we fought against each other. But the British are also a warfaring race. They brought us war and they have drawn us into more of their wars.”
Kelly’s heart sank. He dreaded what might follow, but was relieved when Hamana continued, “My tuāhine, Ᾱwhina, was a wāhine toa. She chose the path of peace and she accomplished more than we who chose the path of war. She chose the right path. Now may she forever rest in peace.”
Another waiata followed Hamana’s speech. Hamana sat down and the vicar asked if anyone else wished to speak. Kelly stood and said, “It’s true what everyone has said about Whaea Ᾱwhina. She was a great woman of God and a champion of her people and a mother to many. She was like a mother to me. She was so gracious to me when I had been an enemy to her people. I became a better man because of her.
The vicar concluded the service with the benediction Ᾱwhina had once prayed over Kelly:
To God’s gracious mercy and protection we commit you;
the Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face to shine upon you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord lift up the light of his countenance upon you
and give you peace:
and the blessing of God almighty,
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,
be with you, now and always.
Kelly and Charles joined the other pall bearers, Rāwiri, Wiremu, Tāne and Hamana, and carried the casket out to the churchyard cemetery. All gathered at the graveside, next to Patrick Quinn’s plot, and the vicar pronounced: We therefore commit this body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life.