Examples of Grace and Courage
“It takes a village to raise a child!” I remember when I was in my teens I was having my hair done in Peckham. In came a woman begging on the streets (one of those serial con artists) she was pregnant. She was driven back with shouts of “Am I the father???” From women. I felt those words so harsh back then. Now I believe them.
Funnily I do believe in community, in having a circle of people who love you to be accountable to. However when it comes to your kids, you stand alone. I can be as loving as I want, but at the end of the day, the kid bears your name, and unless I do something huge, I’m not going to make it to the Nobel Prize acceptance speech.
I say this as someone who was blessed with 2 of the best godmothers a girl could ask for. Both shining examples of incredible black women. Both now with God.
Grace.
My aunt Claudia was in truth the woman I want to be when I grow up. Graceful, like you’ve never seen before in your life. Kind, with a gentleness that you don’t see in black women of her generation. I remember one of the last times I saw her face to face I was 18, she came for my birthday and she was talking about quitting accounting to open a restaurant. She was almost 50 at the time and I thought to myself “Why??? Are you mad??? Why would you give up a good job to open a restaurant???” Little did I know that woman had the meaning of life figured out. Live simply and be happy. However cancer took her before she could fulfil her dreams. She took me to a west end play called Umoja, the spirit of togetherness, when I was about 10 it meant the absolute world to me. It was my first west end show, and the music is incredible. In fact, I still have the music on my phone. I wanted to play that title track at my wedding to surprise and honour her but my ex husband messed up and forgot his ipod at home. Its actually one of the greatest regrets in my life as she died a few months later. She died on the 2nd of August. Unlike most of my aunts I was in contact with her and I knew she was ill, so I’d check in with her. One of my strongest memories was texting her for the last time. 2 seconds later my mum called me to tell me that she’d died. To which I said “it can’t be??? I’ve just messaged her?” She died of breast cancer. She fought to keep her dignity and I remember her husband telling us she’d refused to go for another round of radiotherapy, which may have extended her life. Again, I thought to myself at the time, “Are you mad? You have a daughter to live for? Why would you want to die sooner??” When my own dad went through his own final illness, I understood everything. My dad didn’t get the time to choose not to have chemo or radiotherapy. I remember up to the 3rd of July they were talking about starting chemotherapy on dad “in a couple of weeks” he died on the 22nd of July. I couldn’t go to my Aunt Claudia’s funeral. God rest her because I’d planned a surprise trip to Rome for my dad which I’d booked for his birthday that year (17th August) We went from the 15th-20th August and her funeral was the 19th. I remember being in Rome at a restaurant with my dad on the day of her funeral and thinking “God, forbid it to take my dad away from me from cancer.” God did in fact take my dad away from me with cancer not even 5 years from that date. I didn’t understand her, until I did. I have never had anything other than admiration and respect for her peaceful soul. She was a rarity in a world that valued noise, she was the embodiment of peace. She didn’t leave much behind other than love and fond memories. God rest you, Auntie Claudia.
Courage.
Next comes my Aunt Theresa. Shine bright like a diamond. She was the warmest, kindest, bubbliest woman that graced the earth. She was the original “Black girl go, getter” from a successful family, she was the star. She was the glue that held her family together and she did incredible things. She was so kind that when she died 1000 people went to her funeral (I had A level exams) also, a website was set up in her honour so people could write about her good deeds. However God took her in the cruellest way, just before 40, in the prime of her life over a preventable illness. She essentially died of neglect by her fiancé. She died of DVT and she’d begged her fiancé to take her to hospital. He went to work instead, so she got her sister to take her, the NHS messed up and sent her home with aspirin after 8 hours in A&E when the legal maximum was 4 hours. The clot moved from her leg to her lungs and she suffocated. She took me to York, it was an incredible holiday, we went the York minister, the Viking museum, a special exhibit there at the time, we enjoyed the cobbled streets and the scenery. She exposed me to things that were not the humdrum because she had an elevated sense of what it was to enjoy life. Good food, good company, good surroundings. She wanted me to have the best and therefore have an understanding of what the best was. She would have been younger than I am now and she was a property developer with 5 houses, as well as a City slicker at the time earning 6 figures. This was back in the day when it was way harder to earn 6 figures The memories are so powerful that when I turned 30 a friend took me back because she knew what a special place York has in my heart. So when I pass my driving test, I’m taking my goddaughters to York, to pass down the love. I remember 1000 people came to her 1 year anniversary it was my first memorial and I cried for her shamelessly. When her family did a 5 year memorial, over 250 people came and again, I cried. Because I never got to truly appreciate her, she died just before I turned 18, and I always considered her death a watershed moment in my life. No longer did I believe my aunt’s would live forever. No longer did I want to take life for granted because tomorrow wasn’t promised and she lived each day shamelessly and I have nothing other than true admiration for her boldness, her courage and her devotion to her family. She provided a safe place for many to land. However I have always feared being her. A femme fatale, who died too young. When she died it was said “it was a pity she didn’t have kids” (she was 39) yet I think that’s a blessing. To have a mother that wonderful taken from you for the pettiest of reasons would have been a truly scarring event. No one, to this day I can say has even shown me a 10th of her shine. She could light up the room and going on 13 years since she passed I can still hear her voice, her laugh. That’s living. When the main memories you have of someone is their laughs because they laughed so often.
Aunties and uncles are there to provide the fun stuff. These memories I have of my aunts are precious, not only because they aren’t here anymore but I am now in the position they are in to extend kindness and I know the time, the effort the MONEY it takes to love a child that way and I feel blessed that they took the time to love me that way. I hope to pass on stories of their love and kindness and how it moulded my life to my own children and make sure that their legacies live forever.
They say you die twice. When you breathe your last and when someone last speaks your name. I hope that with this post they live for eternity.
In loving memories of Aunt Theresa and Aunt Claudia.
Please live your lives as they did. With Grace and Courage.
Annetta Mother Smith.