I've decided to share two super personal notes to two women that impacted upon my life and being, the first was at the funeral of my Nanny who mothered me from birth to 8 years old and the second is to my mother who birthed me and gave me the world. My nanny died in December 2017 and I read the following passage at her funeral in January 2018:
'I can't believe it and probably never will, I was raised by Hazel Conway from birth till I was 8, without her I wouldn't be me or the me that I am today. I owe her so much, and I just hope that she knew this. Those years and those lessons instilled, the patience when everyone thought I was dyslexic but she stayed with me and helped me read, brought books and pushed me and it's so ironic as now I work with words.
The first time it truly hit me wasn't when the news broke, yes tears were shed but it was when I saw a picture of my youthful nanny beaming at a baby, she always seemed happiest in the presence of youth and for her it wasn't a job but a role, a role to instil lessons of life in a new being, and those lessons are simple but not often taught! To live, to love and to enjoy the now.
She took in countless children from all different backgrounds, nursing the sick back to health and mending the broken. She truly was someone special and I know that all those she held and helped become who they are will agree, she loved and was loved and will be sorely missed.
I wrote this tribute to her, ten years ago, when I was 17 and Amanda, my sister found it the other day in my flat and thought that I should share it.
I don't know too much about Hazel's childhood but I can remember she used to tell me about living through the second world war and in any case it must have been a traumatic experience. Yet somehow and someway, the wonder of youth and childhood never left her.
Hazel's love of raising children didn't stop with her own, as she went on to foster so many more, privately and through the council, this includes my brothers, sister and of course myself. She gave a home to less fortunate children who could only conjure a mother like her in their dreams, that of course was until the day her door was opened to her house which then became their home. Every child that entered was showered with affection, no matter the creed colour or race, each child was treated equally.
No money could buy the love she gave or the time spent, a woman who lived to love, A mother not only to three but also to the countless souls who wandered through her door lost to be found and broken to be fixed, troubled to be solved. Goodnight sweet angel until we meet again.'
The second passage was written for my mother who turned 60 this month. First and foremost my father was and is a scammer, yes we can all laugh at the tired, told tale of Nigerian princes sending emails. My mother came from money, my mother had dreams, my father had ideas, broken plans and get rich quick schemes, my father is a man, my mother is a woman, my mother was a mother, my father was never a father.
'You know I think about you a lot and I think about the sacrifices you made but what makes me sad is wondering if you were ever happy, throughout my childhood I don't know if I recall you smiling, he seemed to have just ruined everything for you and that makes me extremely sad. I will never understand his hold on you or the love you bear for him, I never really will.... when I think of happiness it's dancing, cooking, travelling, hanging out with friends... for so many years you just went to work and worked to maintain the household but now you're free from us and all that and at 60 can you not find the power to fully free yourself from him? I don't hate him as I don't know him but I hate him for what he did... he abandoned all of us'
My mums 60 and my nanny died at 85, as I get older I get closer to the truth my mum had been married and had 4 children by the age I am now, it puts so much into context especially the sacrifices made. In order to become better I have to remember the love given to me by these expectational women and contemplate on the foolish mistakes and how I mishandled my emotions towards them.
