Farewell to Gertrude Di Ciacca
FAVOURITE walk is from Cockenzie Harbour towards the harbour at Port Seton.
Depending on the tide, I make my way past the Boatshore towards Swan’s End. I take the route I loved as a kid, across the rocks. I can walk over damp sand and pebbles or, if the waves have been high, scramble over stones, rocks and seaweed.
It can be dangerous and I invariably slip, but the challenge is to find my way. Childlike, I am transported by the rockpools and the waves, my mind distracted and calmed.
No matter my mood when I start out, I am invariably distracted by familiar memories to raise my spirits: the bench dedicated to my father, Johnny Di Ciacca, in
the garden opposite Cockenzie House; the back of what was the Cockenzie Cafe, at 48 High Street, and my old family home above it.
It was Gertrude, my mother, who taught me to walk daily. She was the glamorous Glasgow girl who descended on Cockenzie in 1952, successfully running the Cockenzie and Wemyss Cafes while raising eight children. It was she who rallied us to get out,
whatever the weather, and get “some fresh air”. We’d troop off reluctantly, in no time breaking off into groups. The adventurers immediately scrambling on familiar rocks or climbing on the harbour wall; those needing a favour falling back to talk with mother; those in a low state, straggled at the back, arms folded, head down until their mood lifted. We invariably returned
home laughing and in harmony.
We lost mummy last week, aged 95. She was walking and praying till her last. Thanks to the habits she taught us, although we were scattered, we have rallied to be together, albeit remotely. The habit as children to group together, pray and reflect has stood us in good stead. Our thanks to Cockenzie for embracing her as “yin o’ oo” and walking alongside us.