Greetings!

I trust you had a good weekend. Although the sky, from my vantage point, is a picture of imminent showers and the forecast for today into Wednesday corroborating the same, the sun is still trying to do as only the sun can; a vivid reminder that no matter how bleak our situations, if we take the time to truly look, there is always [if only by a glimmer] the possibility of hope and the related challenge, daring us to embrace and hold it fast.

As I continue my reflections on the life and legacy of my dear departed mother, to whom I will refer hereafter as “Nurse,” I call to mind how like the weather outside she was. I suspect that many of the guys who would have ventured beyond our gate for a word with me, perished the thought before they could conjure up a reasonable explanation. You see, “Nurse’s” stern demeanour was a sure sign of rain…on the parade of their intended overtures, with the possibility of a flood of regret, were they foolish enough, to take her only daughter for a ride…down heartbreak street. Pity they were not brave enough to breach the stern veneer, to experience the side of “Nurse,” that was warm, welcoming, and filled with love and laughter. But those details, again, may provide content for another time…😊

Once one got a chance to experience her sunny side, however, it would become clear that “Nurse” had a heart that was larger than her six feet plus frame and the presumed bite, even with her initial bark, was non-existent.

As a wife, she shared with her husband George, a bond that was warm and deep. She always called him G, the first letter of his given name, George and he called her V, for Violet. Theirs was a relationship in which mutual respect was the foundation on which their love was built. As I think back now, I am even more convinced of that fact, given that their respective temperaments and interests were as alike as chalk and cheese.

Nurse was a homebody, who was not given to much chatter, or anything that could be perceived as loud and, to use her favourite word, outlandish. She did not like large crowds and when not working or involved in something at Church, could be found, happily engaged in some kind of activity, in her home. She was the yin to my father’s yang, he being an outgoing kind of guy, who loved to ‘hang’ with his friends and enjoyed the occasional party as well as the movies. I do not think I ever heard my parents in an out and out quarrel, but I always knew when there was tension. “Nurse’s” singing would be soft, as she moved from one hymn to another, bringing a cooling calm to the fiery temper my dad possessed.

One vivid memory, even as I type, is of them playing cards on a weeknight. My father was an expert card-player and would apply all the tricks he knew, beating her in nine out of every ten games played, allowing her one win, to save face. Every so often you would hear her say “G, yuh too teef man” to which he would respond with a telling chuckle… “stop di noise and play di game.” They were a team in every sense of the word. I recall how he would lovingly clean the white shoes she wore for work; how she would set his dinner on the table when he came home late from work, sometimes sitting and keeping conversation with him, as he ate. One need only to have heard her deep wailing at my dad’s funeral, to understand that she had lost her only love, a fact borne out in her refusing even to entertain the idea of remarriage, though only fifty-two, when she was widowed.

‘Nurse’ was not only Morant Bay’s midwife she was mother to many, especially her children. Though a disciplinarian who never spared the rod, a more tender and caring mother could never be found. Her only daughter, more than her sons, tried more than her patience, as she endeavoured to steer her [them] along right pathways. Once again, such escapades will no doubt provide content for another post, but for now I can affirm, without fear of contradiction, that as wife and mother, details of “Nurse’s” stewardship, have been chronicled in Proverbs 31.

I suppose that is why Church, not merely the institution, but her relationship with God and the people and things of God, formed the axis upon which her life turned. How well do I remember that as my Sunday School teacher, she would have me stand for a portion of the class as punishment, because I did not study my Golden Text, telling me that at home, she was my mother but in Sunday School, she was my teacher and would not put up with my thinking I could get away with not studying the scriptures as was expected. “Nurse” also sang in the choir, was leader of the Daughters of the King [DOK], served on the Church Committee and was a leading figure in the Mothers’ Union.

Did I tell you I could go on and on about her? Well, this is it for now. On another occasion, I will share some more. Until then, I will simply say thanks be to God for the life and legacy of an amazing woman, Violet Sylvia Jervis nee Bryan, aka “Sissy” and “Nurse”: August 25, 1922 – June 13, 2003.

Treasured in the hearts of her children and loved ones…forever!

Grace+