After you died, this card came up in my readings day after day. And when it didn’t, I would seek it out and put it out on my desk anyway. Although I know that no human can be narrowed down into one Tarot card, that we embody all of the Court Cards at different times in our lives, in day-to-day life, you truly were the Queen of Cups.

Emotion on emotion, water on water. You operated from your feelings, always; you were motivated by kindness and love. We laughed at your lack of knowledge – you were as far away from the King of Swords as anyone could be. Air on air? No thank you. But why should we have laughed, when you had to leave school at age 12 to become a carer for your family? You undertook an amazing education in caring, despite your mother and your sister dying in your childhood. Caring was nature and nurture for you – embodying love, you had both the intuition for it and the training. It was wrong that you had such training at such an early age – it wouldn’t be allowed today – but how beautiful it was that it never made you angry or bitter.

In your final hours, you named everyone in your family, one by one, again and again. Not easy in such a big family! Nobody would be left out. Chris, where’s Chris? He’s here? Pavel, where’s Pavel? Lukas? Everyone had to know that they were in your thoughts. Even though you were taking your last breaths, your thoughts were not on your pain, but on how your death would affect your family. That was you through and through, wasn’t it? How did you know that Louise was crying when you couldn’t open your eyes to see, when she quietly wiped her eyes, when she didn’t make a sound? Only a Queen of Cups could know that – emotional intelligence to the point of psychic ability. It wasn’t the first time you understood the depths of our emotions without effort. But it was the last, and I will always remember that magical moment.

It is right that our final walk together was along the River Mersey, that vast body of water that made the backdrop to your entire Liverpool life. That great symbol of the vibrant working-class city that I grew up in and couldn’t wait to get away from. I love Liverpool now, partly because you were Liverpool.

We stopped at that rough pub that overlooked the river. Do you remember? We looked over towards the Wirral, pondering the little hills. The seawater waves lapped loudly beneath the pier. The Autumn winds whipped crisp packets and chocolate bar wrappers into our faces. We drank cheap coffee out of the plastic cups on the concrete steps. As the gulls cried, and as the scent of the salty sea filled my body with wilderness, I consciously thought, Appreciate this moment, she is not forever. In our conversation that then developed, you turned to me and said, We don’t talk about death in this country, do we?

We had no idea about the cancer growing inside of you. We had no inkling that just a few months after this trip to the waters of my childhood, you would walk the Earth no more.

I refuse, always, to see your death as a tragedy. It wasn’t. It is the mysterious cycle of life that we are all a part of. My turn will come, too.

It is correct that our last trip together was to the water of the Mersey. You are water of water, my Queen of Cups, perpetually offering your cup full of love to anyone willing to take it. I chose the Queen from the Metanoia Marseille Tarot today because, like you, pink is her colour. In other Marseille decks, she is surrounded by the realm of water; cherub-children sometimes adorn her throne because children are attracted to her. Of course they are: you loved all children unconditionally.

Wherever you are, whatever you have become, may I say thank you for offering your watery depths to me. I can still feel your generous waves lapping in and out of my life today.