EULOGY : by Jacqie Carr Taylor

Friend Sylvia

I’d like to share a little of what it meant to have Sylvia as one of my closest friends over the past 19 years.

Through orchestra, skiing and beyond, Sylvia became a soul mate, a pillar, always there through the best of times as well as the worst of times.

She was a travelling companion, a confidante, a wise friend who loved me enough to help me examine life's challenges from the point of view of others, not just my own, helping me to move on.

I have so many memories to cherish:
Singing with friends gathered round a piano at an orchestra weekend.
Putting the world to rights on a ski lift or in a bar, or looking down on the beautiful people from her flat whilst chewing over brunch and the Saturday Guardian.
Finding the time to fit in my birthday every year; enjoying gatherings of her many, many friends for hers.
Trips to a ballet, opera, cinema or gallery.
Arguing about definitions and despairing at misplaced apostrophes.
Sharing photos and tales of far off places.
Dancing and drinking and, always, talking.
Bemoaning the lack of formal etiquette for how exactly you inform friends you have cancer.
Laughing at the absurdity of even the bleakest of times.

Sylvia being Sylvia came to question why we uniquely refer to treating cancer as a “battle”. She might not have agreed with it being called a fight, but no one could question her fighting spirit, getting every last precious drop out of life to the end.

And yet, despite the challenges thrown at her over these last 3 years, Friend Sylvia was always there to listen to my trivial woes, never losing patience, ever sympathetic, unfailingly generous and wise.

My life has been infinitely richer with Sylvia in it.

Friend Sylvia:
Inspiring, intrepid, defiantly intelligent.
Warm, witty, dependably wise.
Verbal sparring, salsa dancing.
All embracing.
Life enhancing

EULOGY: by Frances Reynolds from Lawyers' Music

SYLVIA – MUSICIAN, LEADER, COMMITTEE MEMBER!

The last time that I had a proper long chat with Sylvia was towards the end of September. I was about to start a new job and she was about to go off to Germany, so we’d got together to see a film. It was a suitably ‘Sylvia’ type film – it had subtitles – of course – and to tick a few more boxes, was set in the Middle East and handled the topic of women’s rights in a poignant, yet not too sentimental, way. Afterwards, over a cup of herbal tea, we had a wide-ranging conversation that inevitably centred in on Lawyers’ Music. As I’ve said, Sylvia was due to go to Germany and was agonising over how to break the news to our new conductor. That was a demonstration of what Lawyers’ Music meant to her. She was worried about – and cared about – in this particular case, the lack of continuity involved in having a temporary leader when she was away, whilst retaining a steely determination to lead the orchestra when she got back. Sadly, this time, she was unable to do so but many, if not all, of us recognise the poignancy of her passing away on the night of our orchestra concert, as we were playing in St James’s Piccadilly, a venue where she - we - had played in so many amazing concerts.

Sylvia was a member of Lawyers’ Music orchestra for 19 years and for 14 of those years she was its leader.

She was a wonderful musician – with an attention to detail and a refusal to gloss over the hard bits. She practised and knew the notes but music came naturally: one of her desk partners recalls playing a piece he had played many times before - Sylvia was sight-reading and played it extremely well. Afterwards, she modestly commented, “Well, it pretty much fell under the fingers…”. She took on tricky solos and played them with aplomb and had the admirable knack of remaining completely calm whilst playing anything. And this calmness had a wonderful effect on those around her: one of our conductors and soloists recalls those particularly nerve wracking moments just before going on the platform, which conductors and soloists share with the leader of the orchestra – he can think of no-one better than Sylvia with whom to have spent those moments.

As leader, she had a gentle but firm manner; a confidence, utter competence; a grace and an ease. Her smile and wit helped her deal superbly with the difficult decisions of who sits where and how to arrange the violin sections. But she paid attention to all sections. There is a fondly remembered customary post-concert exchange of: “Well led, Sylvia!”, to which she would reply, “Well followed, brass!”.

She was incredibly encouraging – generous with praise and with an unerring way of picking out one’s strong points. Another of her desk partners remembers a glow of pride when sensing the subtle shuffle of her shoe after he had played a solo. In addition, he also remembers her writing ‘page from hell’ at the top of a tricky scherzo! Above all, he remembers complete trust and mutual strength in the partnership of sharing a music stand for nearly 6 years. Her section always learnt a lot from Sylvia, whatever they were playing and got a lot more out of the music as a result. She was supportive and positive and believed in you.

And she came to the pub after rehearsals! That’s where many of us non-string players got to know her, initially. She was a great listener and always had an interesting perspective on things. We couldn’t quite persuade her of the benefits of drinking beer – she sadly remained almost uniquely among us, a lager drinker - but to make up for it, her crisp packet origami was second to none.

For it is not just for her musical abilities that we respected and admired her. For more years than she cared to remember, Sylvia was social secretary of Lawyers’ Music, welcoming new members, telling us where to go for post-concert drinks, organising residential weekends. It was her personal involvement with such events that made them a success – someone told me that they only went on the orchestra weekend away because she was going to be there: if Sylvia was up for it, it’d be fun.

Her knowledge of music helped the music committee select repertoire and her being a non-lawyer amongst many, many lawyers gave a fresh outlook to the running and organisation of Lawyers’ Music. On a frustrating day when committee emails were flying backwards and forwards at a rate of knots, on top of the work you were supposed to be doing, it was a breath of fresh air to read one from Sylvia. She really thought about the people and the issues and genuinely sought to resolve them in the best way possible. Her e-mails were superbly worded – measured, considered and diplomatic. Lawyers’ Music is a better organisation because of her.

Sylvia inspired huge affection amongst the members of Lawyers’ Music. She hardly missed a concert in all her 19 years and attended rehearsals and continued to take part in the running of the orchestra when she was not really feeling up to it and long after many of us would have given up. Her loyalty – though tested at times – remained strong.

Music was an important part of Sylvia’s life; and we are very, very privileged to have shared that with her for so many years.

EULOGY: from work colleague Sheila Sprigge

I first met Sylvia in 2004, the year we both joined the Mortimer Market Centre, a sexual health clinic specialising in clients affected by HIV.  I liked her immediately.  She had a warmth and an ease about her which everyone noticed, as well as a strong moral stance that always guided her work. 

Sylvia came to Mortimer Market  having  qualified as a clinical psychologist, and completing a doctoral thesis on the topic of victims of torture. She had a strong desire to make psychology accessible to marginalised and disadvantaged groups. Much of her work at Mortimer Market was focused on supporting asylum seekers, many of whom had been through harrowing personal experiences. 

Sylvia excelled in building relationships with these clients, and her commitment to them was evidenced in the psychological and practical help she gave to improve their situations. She was tireless in supporting clients in immigration tribunals and liaison with the Home Office. She made a huge difference to their lives. 

Sylvia went on to chair a British Psychological Society conference focusing on working with vulnerable groups, and contributed significantly to the subsequent special edition of the professional journal “Clinical Psychologist' focusing on this topic.  Another area that Sylvia played a leading role in at Mortimer Market was the development of systemic work -  that is, therapeutic work focused on couples and families.  She led our systemic clinic during its most successful period, and this work was nationally recognised, attracting psychologists and trainees from other services.  Sylvia was an inspiration for the trainees she supervised, who left Mortimer Market with a confidence and commitment to their work, at the outset of their careers. 

Nevertheless, despite taking her work seriously, Sylvia’s impact on Mortimer Market was not just in her work with clients.  She had a brightness and lightness that affected the whole team and helped make the service an enjoyable place to work. Many of us particularly remember bouts of light-hearted and relaxed banter with Sylvia, which was often a welcome relief at the end of a long working day. Sylvia was interesting, fun and easy to confide in, and she built meaningful friendships with her colleagues, many of whom are here today.

Sylvia’s diagnosis was a huge shock for us, and her departure was a great loss to the service.  The sadness felt by her colleagues was echoed by the concern showed by her clients. Sylvia remained thoroughly professional. She had a very short notice period of 2 weeks to wind down her work, and Sylvia took this task extremely seriously. She completed her client work, arranged handovers, and wrote detailed discharge reports so that work with her clients could continue with minimum disruption. 

Shortly after this, I too left Mortimer Market, to focus on my young children. Our friendship grew deeper over this time, and our shared background in psychology helped us to confide in each other in relation to our life journeys over a period of great change for both of us.  I was delighted when Sylvia agreed to become a godparent to my youngest child. 

As many here will know, Sylvia showed a great openness about her ongoing struggle with cancer, without ever treating it as a sob-story.  She quickly adjusted to her condition, and took huge personal responsibility for managing it. She showed the same level of commitment and focus to this task as she had previously shown towards her clients at work.

Despite this commitment to her own health, Sylvia never allowed cancer to dominate her life, or to become her sole concern. She continued to live life to the full, remaining interested in the world and generous to others. For me, what I particularly remember about this period is the many fun and relaxed times we had together, for instance having pub lunches or picnics, or visiting country houses.

Sylvia also continued to show great wisdom and remained a valued confidante for me.  This is a real loss - even when composing this eulogy I found myself wishing I could phone her to get her views on what I should say. 

My life has been hugely enriched by knowing Sylvia, and I know this is true of many of those around her.  For me, it’s hard to believe she’s no longer here, but it remains impossible to forget her.  She was a real inspiration, and she leaves behind a model of living life to the full, of rising above challenge, and of committing herself to making a meaningful difference. 


Rest in peace Sylvia.  

EULOGY: by John Kapp

Sylvia’s calling and life’s purpose was a healer and doctor, following a long family tradition of healers of mind and soul, represented here today by her cousins, and her aunt, my sister, Dr Elinor Kapp. Our mother, Dr Dorothy Kapp nee Wilkins came of a long line of missionaries in India. Healing requires the feeling expression of emotions, and letting them go. 

Sylvia expressed emotions aptly by choosing words which touch, as in her blog, and the items in this service, and by feelingly performing music,  leading the lawyers’ orchestra for over 15 years. One of our ancestors led the Musikverein orchestra in Vienna for over 40 years.

Sylvia accomplished an immense amount of healing in her short life, her illness and her death, and achieved her life’s purpose. This congregation honours her memory, and expresses our gratitude to her for that healing, so that we can let her go.


On behalf of Sylvia’s family I would like to thank you for your messages of condolence, and for being present with us here today.


The next item is a song called ‘Lament’, but Sylvia didn’t choose it, and neither did I. It chose me by ringing in my ears incessantly after she died. The words are a first world war poem, which my father, Reginald Kapp, set to music in 1919, that’s 94 years ago. I sang it a few times accompanied by him, but that was around 55 years ago. This is its first public performance.      

My father never expressed any emotions in front of me, or said this, but I think that in this song, he was expressing and feeling the emotions of fighting on the British side, against his cousins and school friends on the German side, so that he could heal and let them go.

The words aptly expressed how I first felt on losing Sylvia. However, now, 12 days on, I too have let go of the emotions, and the feelings have transformed from sadness to gratitude for being alive, and not taking life for granted.  

In a moment my son in law, Philip Clemo will play his recording of me singing it last Monday, but these are the words:


‘We who are left, how shall we look again,
Happily on the sun, or feel the rain,
Without remembering that they who went
Ungrudgingly, and spent
Their lives for us, loved too the sun and rain.

A bird among the rain wet lilac sings- 
But we, how shall we turn to little things,
And listen to the birds, and winds and streams,
Made holy by their dreams.
Nor feel the heart break, feel the heart break in the heart of things.’  



   

EULOGY: by Annabel Kapp

Sylvia was born in April 1970 at the time of the pear blossom – as our mother often said.  That summer we moved to Hove, to a house with a large garden and a sandpit, climbing frame and trampolines made by our father. She would play happily and imaginatively on her own - a favourite game being Silverella and her 2 horrible bossy sisters. I can’t think where she got that idea from.

My earliest vivid memories of Sylvia are from when she was a toddler. I played with her like she was my doll, dressing her up to have tea with Belinda’s teddy Helen.  I also remember her running into the front garden to greet me from school, and scooping her up in my arms thrilled she was so pleased to see me, while she sunk her sharp little teeth into my shoulder in all the excitement.

Sylvia’s blonde hair and blue eyes captured huge attention when we lived in Saudi Arabia. Locals would crowd around us in the Souks wanting to touch her hair. She wasn’t phased at all by this attention.

Being the youngest Sylvia always had to catch up and continually face not being as good at things as her 2 older sisters. Something we did not let her forget! Our mother, also the youngest of 3, felt this keenly so Sylvia was allowed dispensation from certain family rules and tasks. It felt very unfair to me and Belinda when she did not have to do her share of washing up and was allowed to eat white bread and not like onions! Desperately trying to keep up came at quite a cost. Sylvia had many accidents particularly as a young girl, and I remember hearing her screaming and my heart sinking as I thought “oh no what has she done now?” Aged 7 we went on a sailing holiday with her entire leg in a plaster cast and each time we went in the dingy it had to be put in a plastic bag. We were not a family to be deterred by such things.

Musically she shone. I remember us marvelling at her aged about 3, picking out the tune to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star note perfect on the piano. Belinda would test her perfect pitch, never catching her out. We often played music together as a family, most memorably in a concert in the music room in Brighton Pavilion. She played the piano, violin and recorder to grade 8 standard, regularly competed in local music festivals and led the Brighton Youth Orchestra in her teens. Although she did well academically at school it wasn’t until she joined the Youth Orchestra that she felt she really found herself and not only was leader but also one of the main organisers of social events. She was fun loving and included everyone. Apparently the parties at our home were legendary! She repeated this later with the Lawyers Music symphony orchestra, which she joined through Belinda.

Her close family was of immense importance to her and she was a huge support to Belinda in particular. She was a loving and attentive auntie looking out for her nieces and nephews and seeing things from their perspective. She kept up with all her many cousins and the wider family. In adulthood her friends took on a similar significance and she had an extraordinary number of good friends from all areas of her life.

We’ve long recognised that Belinda is most like our mother, me like our father, and Sylvia was a good mix of both. She, like our mother, lived simply and did not buy unnecessary things, and like our father she went out into the world as a passionate activist and debater, championing causes she believed in. She did spend money on travel however and was very adventurous, although she later admitted that some of her more intrepid back packing trips were to prove herself. For her first solo trip, aged 18, Belinda managed to talk her out of South America into a more manageable Australia. Over the years she explored the silk route, Pakistan, Djibouti, Bolivia, Yemen, Cambodia and Vietnam among other places. She kept in touch with many travellers she met along the away. One friend posted on Sylvia’s blog that she was unflappable even when being shot at by Khmer Rouge guerrillas in Cambodia  - something she had kept very quiet from the family.


Sylvia read Psychology at Nottingham University. She then moved into her Parson’s Green flat and trained as a hypnotherapist, working in a complementary health centre a stone’s throw from here. She quickly realised that she wanted to have a greater impact on people’s lives and work within the NHS, helping people with much more serious challenges.  She showed incredible determination in applying 3 years running to her chosen Clinical Psychology course before being accepted. It is a course known for it’s anti-establishment views towards the profession and with an ethos that was personally challenging and self-reflective. It was perfect for Sylvia. She got a doctorate in Clinical Psychology at the University of East London in 2004 and was very proud of being another Dr Kapp. When her cancer forced her to quit, she was counselling people who had just been diagnosed as HIV positive.

Sylvia’s diagnosis of secondary liver cancer 3 years ago was devastating to all of us, especially as our mother had died from the same condition 10 years earlier. However Sylvia faced it with unbelievable courage, researching her condition meticulously, knowing all the drug names and even researching how she might die. To say she was an informed patient is probably an understatement!

She also did a huge amount of work emotionally and opened up to much less tangible ways of healing and new ways of seeing the world. She never wanted her life to just be about cancer and during her illness she completed a postgraduate certificate in International Humanitarian Psychosocial Consultation. She also went skiing twice, had spa breaks and weekends away on the continent and attended an intensive course in Skyros, Greece. Last spring she went to a friends wedding in the US with no medical insurance, as well as making frequent trips to Germany and Scotland for treatments.

This summer Sylvia had decided to write a paper with her therapist about the psychological challenges of being a person with cancer. She was very excited by this but it was not to be. However her blog has certainly helped many better understand how it is to live with cancer. It is a huge gift and legacy.

Sylvia inspired so many people with the way she lived her life. She really did not want to let go and leave us, though she accepted it at the end. She told me she wanted us to feel uplifted when sending her off - so it feels important that I end on a note of celebration. As her close friend Tim put it:

“What a dazzling life there is to celebrate,

so adventurous and fulfilled.”

Details for Sylvia's funeral at Brompton Cemetery at 12 noon on Thursday 21st November 2013

DIRECTIONS

Public transport: West Brompton station is a few minutes walk away. This has both overland trains linking to Clapham Junction and underground district line tubes, Wimbledon branch.  Come out of the station and turn right.

By car: we are permitted to drive into the cemetery through the Old Brompton Road gates and park in the central avenue on one side only - follow the others who have parked before you. Cars must be removed after the burial as the cemetery will be locked. Local on-street parking will be pay and display, coins only.

On foot: there is pedestrian access from the Fulham Road end of the cemetery as well.

Directions to the Pembroke: turn right out of the Old Brompton Road cemetery gates. Cross over the road at the traffic lights. The Pembroke is on the corner of the next road.  

All are welcome for both funeral and reception. There is a final bit that Sylvia requested we do that will happen at the reception so please make time if you can to come to that too.

The family request no wreaths. Single flowers may be placed by the grave after the committal.

There will be a retiring collection for Trinity Hospice. 

Please follow the link on the service sheet or below to our just giving page if that is easier. 

http://www.justgiving.com/sylviakapp

We are going to carry Sylvia's willow coffin about 600 metres to the graveside. We would like to do this in stages, changing the bearers, so that many people can take part. It will be carried at waist height, by the handles, which is a more calm, informal way to carry and which enables people of different heights and ages to be involved and you don't need to all be in step. Please come forward at the time if you would like to do this.

Funeral details

Sylvia's burial service will be held in the chapel at Brompton Cemetery, Old Brompton Road, London SW5 at 12 noon on Thursday 21st November 2013.

There will be a reception afterwards upstairs in The Pembroke, 261 Old Brompton Road, a short walk from the cemetery.

More details will follow.

Finale posted by Annabel, Belinda and John Kapp

Dear Friends
Our lovely Sylvia passed away in the evening of Saturday 9th November 2013 after a very sudden and swift decline in her health. 
For her last week she was in the care of Trinity Hospice whose support and care were outstanding. 
Annabel and Belinda were with her at the end and she slipped away painlessly and peacefully.
She will be very much missed.

UPDATE

Hi everybody

Thanks so much for all your messages of support and good wishes, I really appreciate them. However at the moment I really don't have the energy to reply, nor to talk, so please for the time being send any messages through my sister's or father's emails and they will print them them out for me:

Annabel: annabel@annabelkapp.com
John: johnkapp@btinternet.com

I may be going into the local hospice tomorrow after another drain procedure to get a real rest, so this seems a good time solution, as this is always very exhausting. 

Thank you very much!