Kelly Mullan was the best person that I have ever met. She improved me in a hundred different ways both by her example and her gentle criticism. She was also the funniest and most selfless person I’ve known. Selfless to a fault - she would never think of herself if there was anybody else that she could think about. Lying in her hospital bed and terribly ill she was still more worried about Deidre not getting to spend enough time with Maggie the dog than about herself.
So what can I think about this? How can I possibly believe that she’s gone? I knew she was dying but I never thought that she would actually die. She was life! She was my life.
What I still feel when I think about Kelly is delight - she delighted me. Everything about her, from the softness of her skin, her pigeon-toed walk, the cool marble of the palms of her hands. The beady-eyed crabbit-ness of her child-hood snap-shots. Her interest in colourful socks, radical politics and American crime drama. This mad collection of disparate things filled me with a kind of thrilled joy. She was as unique in her tastes as she was in her personality. I have never met anyone like her and, sadly for me, can never hope to again. She was and is the love of my life, my perfect match, and like Granny Kelly would call a pair of matching socks, my “comrade”.
She was the best person that I have ever met and I will love her for all time.