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By Novel AllenPublished 3 years ago Updated 2 months ago 3 min read

Two Women.

I cannot talk about one without interlacing the lives of both.

My Mother and my Aunt.

My Aunt and my Mother.

Murdena and Mary.

Two strong Jamaican Mothers.

One woman brought us into the world and the other

cared for us in the world.

Mother MA

I want you both to know that talking about you guys is hard.

Trying to find the right words is hard, they just do not seem to say enough.

My mother has gone home. I was not home when my mother passed.

I remember that with great sadness. She would not want sadness and so I go on knowing that she understands and is smiling.

My aunt is still here with us.

She has finally slowed down and relaxing under the care of my youngest sister. It was not an easy task, she is a strong willed woman.

Auntie M

Both women were born with a gene which eliminated the word NO from their vocabulary.

My mom had seven biological children but my first knowledge as a child was of a house full of a whole lot more than that.

There was a revolving door of children for whom she would at some point assume motherly responsibility.

There were my cousins, on temporary hiatus while on their way to family in the U.K., many other cousins, adopted cousins, adopted brothers and sisters and adopted strangers.

Being a child back then I just accepted that there were a lot of people in my life. I thought it was the norm for every family, it was all I knew growing up.


My mother was a stay at home mom and my father a jack of all trades. He was really good at a lot of them. Work was sporadic, a job here, a job there. So when I became an adult, it was really hard to wrap my mind around how they managed to bring up seven children of their own and yet open their hearts to so many.

That was where my aunt's help made sense of the whole situation.

My aunt moved to the United States when we were young and was the fairy godmother to the entire ensemble.

Whatever help was possible for her to render, she did in her own gentle way, asking nothing in return.

It is truly heartfelt when I say that this amazing woman worked in the tolerable summers in Brooklyn NY, and endured the harsh winters without missing a day of work for forty plus years. She never learned to drive or drove a car. She was up before dawn and home after dark.


The gentle personality and kind hearts of both women earned them the love of all.

Both women were born in humble beginnings and grew up in an era when people planted and made their own food, or simply walked outside and picked it from a tree. The men would go fishing or gently sacrificed a goat or a pig for meat.

They were country folk. In my experience living in the country seems to have a great impact on a persons temperament. I find country folk kinder and more tolerant.

I attribute it to the slower pace of life and the ability to appreciate and take time to enjoy nature in all its beauty.

People in cities and towns are always in a headlong rush to go somewhere and do something, not making time to slow down and just be. It makes for less tolerance and more stress.

Even though they both left the country for the towns, their personalities reflected their kindly loving and caring selves. What they learned in their formative years molded their characters.

Or maybe once a heart is kind it just follows its natural course.

These two women lived their lives giving all they had to help their extensive immediate and external families.

They did this while sacrificing their time and sometimes their health. I remember my mother using her money for many a doctor visit to help some mother with a sick child, or to anyone who needed help.


My aunt is the same. Even in our adult lives she was willing to render whatever help was needed.

They asked nothing in return except that we take care of one another.


We thank all caregivers near and far who contributed to the comfort of easing into the dawn of my mother's life.

She leaves behind innumerable grand-children, great-grandchildren and great-great grand-children and beyond.


Hearts of love.

immediate family

About the Creator

Novel Allen

Every new day is a blank slate. Write something new.

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