Yes, I am still alive. But Granny isn't. I cried when I saw her body at the hospital. And I almost cried at the funeral, but I didn't, because it was a happy funeral, and no one else was crying. People said that the happiness of the funeral was due in part to the eulogy which I read and wrote. Here it is. I have changed no names or dates - my diary is locked. I will likely re-open this diary, and it is only when I do that I will attach aliases.
Good afternoon, all. I don’t intend to be long, but if I am, please forgive me.
*Granny* was born *Granny*, the first of four living children, in St. Augustine in 1926. I’m here to tell you about her life, and with 80 years of it lived here on this earth, there is a lot to tell. I am only her granddaughter, and so have only known her for the last 20 years. The first 60 were told to me throughout my life in stories, and I’d like to share a few of them with you today.
Though born in St Augustine, Granny grew up in the countryside in an era where today’s norms like electricity and running water were more of a luxury. That is if you can call WASA’s water schedule a norm. Back in those days, neighbours lived miles away, and walking through miles of bush often brought with it stories of soucounyants and lagahoos. Granny once gave us a story about a lagahoo that had crossed her path. It had stretched its legs from one end of the track to the other, to prevent her from continuing on. I might have fainted, but not Granny. She turned and ran.
Maybe that was what the countryside had helped to breed. A strong woman. That strength was a physical strength. You have to remember that back then, you toted water for miles without Dr. Scholes, you washed clothes on a stone by the river, and taking a break from house work did not mean zoning out in front of a TV, it meant running around outside, playing cricket and pitching marbles. Granny was probably stronger and fitter back then than some men are now in the prime of their youth.
But that strength was not only physical. Granny was tenacious. Granny was originally engaged to Frank Ventor, the father of her first child, *Uncle #3*. In those days, women were engaged by letter, and Mr. Ventor sent his letter to Granny’s Mummy, my great-grandmother, asking for her daughter’s hand in marriage. Then Mr. Ventor made the mistake of telling Granny that when they were married, she could not see her family as she used to. Big mistake. Granny was a family woman, and for her, family always came first. Well, Granny returned his letter to him, and he had to return her promised hand in marriage.
That tenacity continued even when Wilmoth Henry took a keen interest in Granny. They worked together in Trinidad Match Factory and both rode bicycles to and from work. *Grandpa*, or Grandpa, as I would call him, found out where she lived, and decided to pay her a visit. It happened to rain that day, and although he stood outside, soaking wet, she did not let him in. Later, when she was asked why she allowed her future husband to soak through to the bone in the rain, she said, I didn’t invite him.
But Granny and Grandpa were meant to be, and after the wedding they went to Grenada, Grandpa’s homeland. Two years and one hurricane Janet later, they returned to rebuild their life in Trinidad, and make some babies. Three of their 5 children made it past 3 weeks of life, and still survive today – Byron, Margaret, Nestor. They, together with her first-born, Stanley, and Auntie Louise, began to truly experience the role that Granny had prepared for being the first of several children – the disciplinarian. If something is amiss, if something goes missing, if someone breaks bad news news, if something breaks, if someone does something wrong, if something goes wrong… you can always count on Granny. To share licks.
I could give you so many stories, but I’ll only give you my personal favourite. My mother, *Mom*, and *Uncle* were ordered to wash the wares while Granny went off to work. So Granny left, and when she did, so did *Uncle*. *Mom* sent *Uncle #2* to look for him, and when *Uncle #2* did not return, *Mom* herself went to call them. That was about when Granny returned to an empty house – she had forgotten her glasses at home. Licks did not share then, because Granny was late for work. It would be the next day that Granny would listen to the excuses and explanations. And then the licks would be shared.
There is a peking order of licks, and it does not matter who had erred, or whether one child was not home when the other child did something wrong. Everyone got their share – the smallest got the least first, the oldest got the most last. And in this situation with the glasses, *Uncle*, the oldest present at that time, came prepared. He wore three shirts and three pants. Of course, Granny realised and counter-acted. She stripped him naked, tied him to the bed and “blazed his tail”, so to speak. He broke loose from the bed, jumped out the window and began to run away. Granny did not chase after him, but she picked up a stone and threw it. Did I mention that Byron was hiding behind a corner? Did I mention that, in those days, stones could bend corners?
You can bet your last dollar that anything Granny threw, would connect with what she had intended to hit. The West Indies could use accuracy like that. Then maybe Australia would be crying, and Lara would still be captain.
Granny was a tomboy, and she shared that with her children. She did not just share licks. Of course, when she told you to do something, she expected you to do it, and to do it well, and to do it now. When she spat on the ground, she expected you to return from the shop before the spit dried. But she also expected you to play with her. She passed on a can full of marbles to her boy children, played moral and hopscotch with her girl children, and played cricket with everybody. She taught her children how to dance, so that they would not embarrass themselves when she took them out. And she did take her children everywhere she went – whether it be church or Port-of-Spain on Carnival Monday. It was this balance of love, devotion, and discipline that made her the best mother that my mother and uncles ever knew.
Her grandchildren whom she helped raised, got a taste of all of the above. Even as her health deteriorated, her core qualities never changed. She still took her grandchildren everywhere, and when she could not discipline them as she wanted to, she would do as much as she could, then make sure that your parents knew what you did, so that they would give you the rest. And then when she could not speak, she would still gesture to someone else to straighten you out. And as she grew even weaker, she could still always rely on the eye, and she used it with my 4 year old brother even up to the last week of her death.
This eulogy was not meant to be a sad one, as in life, Granny was never one to be sad. She was a jovial, family-oriented, well respected disciplinarian. And that’s how I want her to be remembered. Thank you.