There is possibly only one thing more moving than Brendan Cox’s brave tribute to his wife Jo, and that was listening to him read those raw words out over the phone in tears, and then asking quietly if it is alright. Brendan had rung me just after her death was formally announced, just because we are friends and he needed my little help to get her tribute to the media. Through mutual tears, we made one small change, so it was solely focused on his love for her, the protection of their children and determination to conquer the hatred that caused her death.
My family was due to see Jo and Brendan this weekend for a summer solstice gathering in their isolated house – no running water, bring your own alcohol, a 15-minute walk from the nearest road. Basically a field by a river and some music. It made their Thames houseboat feel luxurious.
Jo got people to do things they would never normally do. In my case I had bought a four person tent. Its assembly was something I was dreading, but my kids were too excited for words, already laughing at my imminent inability to put the damned thing up.
Jo had sent out a message that her children had just been through chicken pox, or chicken pops, as her kids called them.
Her note exuded a sense of energy and thoughtfulness, characteristics that exemplified her life. This Saturday that field, due to be full of laughter and children’s games, will stand empty, as will the lives of many of the friends she accumulated effortlessly every day.
Patrick Wintour - The Guardian
