This is a special photograph of my 3 aunties and my mum. It was a rare occasion when they were altogether. Now, in 2023, only one person is alive in this photograph. Surprisingly, she’s the eldest.
The aunty in the pink hat was the closest to my mum. She came to England, the first truly part of the Windrush generation. She would tell us stories of the horrendous journey by boat from Jamaica to England. My Aunty Naomi thought about my mum left in Jamaica with no hope for the future. She introduced my mum to my dad and the rest is history. When they were together, they would laugh so hard the house shook. My aunt suffered with I’ll health until she was finally diagnosed with Lupus. Mum and dad looked after her close to the end of her life. Her funeral was huge she was an important member of the Bradford community for 30 years.
Next in the blue dress is my mum. She came to England in March 1964 to marry my dad (arranged by her Sister Naomi). She had a wicked sense of humour, but she was always so kind with the little she had. She was a great cook; her food was delicious. Her cakes in Bradford were legendary – everyone in the family was involved. When she became ill, it was difficult to watch her waste away, it started with her mobility, barely able to walk down the road. Then it started to affect her speech (I know that was hard for her because she always had so much to say). Finally, she couldn’t enjoy her food anymore it had to be blended because she couldn’t swallow.
I stood by helpless and watched all the life and energy drain from her body. Funnily enough, she could always complain when she didn’t like anything about her care. When the end came, family and friends had a chance to see her in the hospital she wasn’t vocal, but she responded to the different voices.
Next in the picture, Aunty Gladys the tallest of the sisters. She shared the wicked sense of humour with her sisters. They could make a joke out of anything. It was always lively when they got together. There was always someone from church at her house whenever I visited they were usually cleaning, doing some domestic chore. Aunty Gladys was a seamstress, and I always remember the piles of fabric in her bedroom ready for the next project.
When Aunty Naomi died, her sewing skills came in handy she sewed the lining of her coffin the night before. Just before Christmas 2022, she was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. Again, it stole all the energy and life out of her. She could only talk of the constant excruciating pain. Eventually, she couldn’t eat or drink just her skeletal frame, barely hanging onto life.
Her funeral was huge all the dignitaries from the church, the many young people who grew up under her ministry and her enormous family.
So, one sister is left alive, and she has spoken or sung at all three funerals. There was a real sense of loneliness and isolation when she spoke. I could sense the deep loss she was feeling. She sang, ‘O what a sunrise it’s going to be’ perhaps thinking of the reunion with her sisters.
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