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!

GERMANY AND BEYOND

A lot's been happening since I last wrote. The treatments in Kassel continued to be very good, but involved long intense days which left me pretty tired. However the clinic doctors arranged for me to have the permanent drain surgically implanted into my abdomen, which we all hoped would make it much easier to manage the ascites fluids and stop them building up and causing such discomfort. This was done at a hospital over 200 kilometres away, so it was a long day trip, but a friend of one of the doctors offered to drive me and my friend Amy for a good price, and also to help with any translation issues.

I was sedated, which was just as well as apparently it didn't all go totally smoothly, but I felt OK, if a bit tender, once it was installed, and the next day the representative from the company came to talk us all through the system (it's a brand-new version of a long-existing system). It was fiddly to drain the fluid, but Amy and I managed it OK after a bit of practice - it was definitely a 2-person job.

A couple of days later the guy who'd driven us over took us on a bit of a tour of Kassel, which was lovely - and Amy and I went out for lunch a couple of times too which was great. Although I feel very self-conscious about my jaundice, it was good to do some normal stuff too.

Funky transport

View from the Herkules monument over the town...

... and up to the folly from the museum

Beautiful autumn leaves round the Schloss (castle)

However, once I got home a couple of weekends ago, things weren't so easy. I had some leakage from the new system, and then after 2 days at home major leakage in the middle of the night, which was rather scary and unpleasant. I called an ambulance, as uncontrolled leakage can cause a sudden drop in blood pressure, and was admitted to Chelsea & Westminster (the Marsden doesn't have an A & E): the new drain had become dislodged and the tube had worked itself out of my body. I spent a few days of last week in hospital and they fitted a stoma bag (used for colostomies and basically a plastic bag which sticks over the wound and drains continuously, and can be emptied and the volume coming through monitored). 

Although it's never nice being in hospital, and I didn't get much sleep, this system kept the pressure in my abdomen down so that I felt much more comfortable, and it was definitely easier than the drain. My legs became much less swollen, which helped a lot, but by the time I was discharged I felt quite weak. However the good thing is that all the support systems have kicked into place - there's a discharge liaison service from the hospital, district nurses to cover medical issues, and the continuing care team from the hospice linked to the Marsden (essentially the same as Macmillan nurses), who in theory all work closely together, although that hasn't quite started working seamlessly yet. I would have expected all this to feel quite scary, moving into another phase with home support, but actually it feels a huge relief right now to have expert advice to call on - and it can be tailored up and down as you want / need, which is very reassuring.

Over last weekend the fluid stopped draining into the bag - presumably because the wound has now healed up - so the pressure's building up again, and I'm going in to talk to the C & W team and decide the next steps to manage it. Emotionally it's all been pretty tough, a very stressful roller coaster, and new territory for me, but I feel in good hands. At the moment the Marsden are taking a back seat, since I'm not under any active treatment there, but I'm assured that everyone's liaising closely.

Overall I'm doing OK, but I'm feeling physically quite weak and washed out, and mentally a bit fragile - so much has happened in the last 6 - 8 weeks and I haven't had much time to process it till now. However I see the emotional fragility as a good sign - there's bound to be a reaction to such a sudden change in my health and the limits to what I can do at the moment. So forgive me for not initiating contact, or replying to well-wishers - I simply haven't had the energy, and am not really up for visitors (apart from family and a few close friends) until I get my head round things a bit. Just as my friends Thea and Amy were wonderful supports to me in Germany, my sisters have been fantastic at both practical help with shopping and cooking, and moral support. So I feel incredibly grateful for that. And after 2 weeks in Kassel, a week in Scotland, another 2 weeks in Kassel, then 3 or 4 days in hospital, I'm really appreciating being at home again in my cosy little flat!