In light of my last post, I felt that a brief thought on the future was needed.
For a long time, I dreamt of a home that was mine. As a little girl, when people would ask me what I wanted from life, I would always say to them that I'd like my own home, a nice house where my family could visit and I could make them tea and cake. That innocent, little girl's dream evolved overtime but would eventually extinguish itself with the onset of young adulthood, as the reality of being unable to buy my own house was all too real.
But since I met my husband, and especially as we started our family, we would both strive together for a home that was ours. Oddly enough, for a long time I had always imagined that home being in London but given the way this town has changed over the years -- which you can read about here -- my heart is pulling me outward. Our decision to leave London behind has been spurred on by personal and unfortunate circumstances but mostly by choice and of dreams born anew.
We will be leaving behind some wonderful friends and family in London, and moving far away from them has been a very difficult and emotional hurdle to conquer in coming to our decision. Needless to say, it was a decision not made lightly. But as I have always said, this was never goodbye; rather, it is more of a see you soon. With a generation lost, it's entirely up to us now.
Looking forward, in the greater scheme of things, we are all young and healthy with the opportunity to look ahead in life and have a chance to better our predecessors' example. Us Storms are a family of five and I doubt that London would have contained us for long. England is a beautiful country and we plan to do our very best to see our new little part of it with fresh eyes. To enjoy life. We'll be doing so and wishing that loved ones were still here on this journey with us, remembering that they'll always be with us in some small way and knowing how proud and at peace they would have been in seeing where we end up gives me rest. The future looks bright on the horizon. I have my Mr. Storm in one hand and see our children walk forth in front and this promise couldn't have been more worthwhile.
If there was one last gift that my late parents gave me; it was the chance to just let go and dream.
I have loved London, if for the only reason that it was my home since birth, it was the place where I grew up, where I played, where I formed...
During the course of the last few years or so, our family has suffered a considerable amount of emotional hardship; I lost my dad in the summer of 2016 and just five short months later, we lost my mum during the winter. Needless to say, we pulled forth into the New Year with heavy hearts, full of grief and mourning. And I cannot explain to you in words what that inner turmoil felt like, what it still feels like -- the pain that comes with watching your loved ones having fought almost valiantly (for years),only to witness them slowly succumb to the devastating hands of that cancerous grip, is metamorphic. It changes you, moulds you into something else.
We have good days and some bad days. Almost two years late, I'd like to say we err on the side of good but it's the bad days, those small transient moments, that completely catch you off your guard and hit you right out of the blue. Sometimes, the grief can be relentless and almost impossible to bare but we bare it, nonetheless. And as we must. We wear grief's scarring wound and familiarise our minds with the burden that it takes on the body. I suspect that we will always carry this pain somewhere deep inside of us - where it will reside sometimes quiet in the hush of its dormant state, and at other times awaken from slumber to return to its active and temporary overflow - until the day that we, ourselves, contribute to someone else's change.
Mum and Dad were always a constant fixture in my life, they became a constant in my Mr. Storm's life and then, as another generation is born, in our children's lives... And then suddenly, they were both gone. They left behind an aching cavity in the pit of the stomach in a world that allows no respite, no rest, no time to breathe or reflect upon what it is that you have lost. Because it is not just they who have departed; with their absence, gone is the rooted anchor that once held me so entirely to London; a place that has been another kind of constant in life. London has been my familiar, my birthplace, my playpen, my educational circuit. This is the city where I met my husband, it's where our children were born and spent their formative years blooming and where we have family and friends still residing. London has always been my home. And despite its misgivings, I think I'll always hold those fond memories close to my heart.
But London is no longer the place to be, not for us, not anymore. It has changed so much since I was a child. Growing up in East London was an experience in itself. We lived in the London Borough of Hackney along a quiet residential street of terraced houses that is now lined with rows of trees that blossom so beautifully in the spring, ready to embrace the summer. We knew many of the families on our street as well as the neighbouring ones -- and my mum and dad, being the bubbly and charming people that they were, knew practically everybody by face and many by name and everybody knew them -- and we were certainly not the most sociable of units. Yet, there it was, a functional community of people who, in the right kind of measure, were truly useful and cordial to one another without being imposing or interfering. Growing up, my sisters and I knew all of the shop keepers and stall owners up to a miles walking distance into the nearest market district of Well Street. We were friends with doctors, Chatterjee and Adireddi, at our local GP, our newsagents, Sid and Jan, the postman (when postmen were reliable and consistent and your mum would always offer him a cup of tea in the winter), the milkman (when there was business for one), the friendly family who ran the Post Office and pharmacies that serviced the Kingsmead and Homerton High Road area. People used to know one another, we showed common courtesy.
When people become indifferent, social cohesion is lost. And so, London seems more unfamiliar to me than ever. I was going to say more about this London that everyone loves to love but the truth of it is this; most will not have known the London that I have known or been party to some of the experiences that I have had and there would be little use trying to explain to you that I miss what my London was and cannot find the will to care enough for what it has become. What I really want is some peace and quiet, security in safety, an old school kind of functional community where our children have the very real opportunity to grow into healthy, happy citizens of the world. And, quite frankly, I want so much more in life for our children than what London has to offer.
Not all love stories end well, or the way we want them too, but they can pave the way to greater things. Farewell, London. You were, indeed, an experience.
We are obsessed with our Kinetic Sand by Spin Master. The kids will play, tinkle and mould with this stuff for hours if I let them have their way. And probably -- for me -- the best feature of this magic sand is that there is no mess; something us mums will easily be sold on, no doubt. Ordinary sand goes just about everywhere, and I do mean everywhere! Fact of the matter is, I would never willingly bring play sand into the house for this very reason; it's a nightmare to get rid of completely. But not Kinetic Sand, which proclaims itself to be "98% sand and 2% magic". I'll take a box or two of that, thank you.
'Kinetic Sand sticks to itself and not to kids, so it can be easily cleaned up and stored. It oozes, moves and melts right before your eyes. It flows through fingers just like real sand and leaves them completely dry, but when pressed together, it sticks to itself and keeps its shape.'
But seriously, this sand is so therapeutic, especially for my son who is very sensory when it comes to these sorts of things. You can view some of their products on their Instagram page. D just loves the stuff. Auntie A couldn't have chosen a better gift than this little sprinkling of magic.
Feeling the sand glide smoothly through your fingers is incredibly relaxing, even for us adults. Kinetic Sand truly is the sand that you can't put down. It moulds and shapes perfectly, providing endless amounts of creative fun building sandcastles, making forts, or simply just letting it fall through your fingers (on repeat).
D loves it and so do his sisters, who are 8 and 9 years old. It turned out to be a really fun joint activity. Each of the kids got a share and made up their own games on their respective LJUDA place mats from IKEA.
I mentioned that it has been very useful for my son's sensory issues and depending on the type of sensory requirements your child might have, I'd highly recommend Kinetic Sand for its tactile nature. You can choose from all sorts of colours and creative sets. We have the 'Shimmering Sapphire' version, which is a 454g box of brilliant blue (subtly sparkly) sand from Amazon.co.uk that will last for ages. It's also currently available to buy at ASDA, Toys "R" Us, Argos and SMYTHS.
Maureen May Kondell 16 September 1946 - 11 December 2016
Today, it has been a year but it all still feels just like yesterday. 2016 was a hard year for us and this year has felt like much of the same.Time has been at a standstill in many ways.
It's difficult to write posts like these, mainly because the memories serve up the sorrow afresh and time is never on your side. But we are only human and complete suckers for punishment. I just want to take this time to reminisce about this beautiful woman that was my mother. My mum, she was a soft creature with the gentlest nature. She was generous and forgiving. She was genuinely good to everyone but she was the sweetest on her grandchildren. I'm honoured to have had both her and my dad know his grandchildren and to see them live on in our own children. Such a beautiful reminder of how in the face of loss we find life flourishing. We love you, mum.
Vibert George Kondell 26 November 1938 - 10 July 2016
It has been one whole year since my father passed away last July 10th. And not a day goes by where I haven't thought about him or missed him deeply. And we talk about him often. Sharing stories and living briefly in a memory seems, to me, to be be a good form of pain therapy.
Many friends who have lost loved ones, dear ones, precious ones... Have all said to me in recent times, that you never really get over it, you simple learn to live with the pain of loss. To manage and mediate it in between living and remembering. I can't say that they are wrong. Because there is everything that is right about that statement. It rings home in all the ways that I wish it didn't because it is just another confirmation of the fact that all we have left now are bittersweet memories and poignant stories, shifting recollections and heartwarming saddened smiles.
These coriander and lime chicken kebabs went down such a treat for my son's birthday celebrations (last year); I'm actually considering making them again as he turns a spectacular 5 years old on Monday.
You will need:
2 Cloves of garlic
2 Whole limes, one freshly juiced and zested for the marinade rub and the other, cut into wedges for serving
A handful of coriander/cilantro, stalks and leaves (retain a few of the leaves for garnishing)
2 Spring onions, discard the trimmed ends and roughly chop the stalks
1 Tablespoon of fish sauce
1 Teaspoon of chilli infused olive oil (add an extra teaspoon for extra heat)
chicken breast, cut into reasonably bitesized cubes
1 Red bell pepper, seeds and core removed, cut relatively to the same size as the chicken
1 Green bell pepper, seeds and core removed, cut relatively to the same size as the chicken
1 Large white onion, skinned and cut relatively to the same size as the chicken
Here's the How-To:
1. Cut and cube your bell peppers, onion and chicken into roughly the same sized chunks and place in to a large dish. Set this aside while you make the marinade.
2. Combine your garlic cloves, lime juice (and zest), coriander and spring onions and compress them down into your blender. It will fit into the small glass attachment used for blending nuts, etc.
3. Add in the fish sauce and the chilli infused olive oil and blend until you get a thick green sauce-like consistency.
It should look like this image above.
4. Pour your marinade over the chicken and the onion/pepper mix and thoroughly rub into all of your ingredients. Arrange you pieces randomly or in a repeating pattern onto skewers. The ingredients used made 6 skewers.
5. You can leave this to set in the fridge for 1 hour or simply cook straight away (as I have done). Yes, that's right. In the oven, preheated at 200C, for 20 minutes or until cooked through.
6. I grilled mine off for 5 minutes at the end to get that authentic charred look. Serve with lime wedges and a sprinkling of fresh coriander/cilantro leaves for that finishing touch.
Someone can't wait to get their hands on those skewers. I didn't add any salt to this recipe but feel free to add a pinch of salt and black pepper to the mix for the extra kick in flavour and heat.
If you enjoyed this recipe, then please feel free to like, credit me when you share and do leave me a comment in the relevant section below. I'd love to hear your thoughts.
In Memoriam: 16th September, 1946 - 11th December, 2016
It was a year ago that I began putting together a post that would be a sort of dedication to my late mother and even serve as some kind of therapeutic catharsis on my part. But a year ago doesn't seem like so long ago... And yet so much has changed in a revolving world that is still very much the same. We lost mum in the evening on the 11th of December, 2016. And our hearts are broken as are my thoughts and so this post may not be so coherent.
I thought I'd include some of my notes, my trains of thought before sharing with you the details of my mum's funeral service and some of the wonderful sentimental love we all hold.
"I began writing this post in January of 2016 -- on the 24th day of the month to be precise -- and with all of its associated tumultuous emotions, I thought it might be of some poignant use to me when reading back over it in the years to come. I thought it might serve a purpose.
"My mum has just started a stronger course of Immunotherapy; she had her first session administered on the 21st (which was a Thursday). Her body has reacted quite well to it actually. And by well, I mean she hasn't experienced many of the related symptoms -- such as nausea, vomiting, dizziness, diarrhoea, etc. -- except for the general weakness and diminished appetite. The weakness hasn't lasted long, in fact just a day or two. And by Saturday, she decided to do some grocery shopping with my sister (who lives with her and dad in our Hackney family home).
"Mum is currently 69 years old and will be turning 70 this year.
***
"In 1990, during her fourth and last pregnancy carrying my younger sister, mum was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Being overweight and eventually, over the years, falling down that slippery slope of poor lifestyle and bad food habits only compounded her health. Despite managing her diabetes for a long time with metformin, the doctors had to eventually persuade her to start injecting insulin as her current management was no longer working adequately... In 2007 mum was diagnosed with an ocular melanoma in her right eye, which was discovered after a routine eye test. Mum was afraid to lose her eye and so opted for radiotherapy, instead. After undergoing the treatment with radioactive eye plaque, she managed to retain the eye and the tumour shrunk to the point that she was in remission but pretty much lost the sight of her eye. In 2013, after a harsh winter and a nasty flu, mum found that her cough was not improving. After a referral from the GP a shadow was detected on her lungs. She underwent a painful biopsy to extract a small tumour but the remaining nodules were too small to remove and it was revealed that the cancer from her eye (which had slowly regrown) had spread to her lungs. This was a devastating blow for the family and so it became a matter of urgency to remove the eye in 2014.
"By 2015, she was to have a lump removed from under her skin on the abdomen and in 2016 we learnt that her cancer had spread from her lungs to the liver. [EDIT: After dad's passing in July, mum's health worsened and her mobility, impacted... She was diagnosed with brain cancer and given only months.]
"Her mind, unlike her body, is as ever... Resilient."
***
I never got around to finishing this post. I thought we would have had more time... You can read some of our memories shared below.
A Celebration of the Life of Maureen Kondell
City of London Crematorium 30th December 2016 at 10.45
The Minister's Speech and Funeral Service Welcome
"We come together to say goodbye to Maureen. To honour her. To pay tribute to her. And to give thanks for her life.
"And to offer love and support to one another at such a difficult time. A time made even more painful as it is just five months since we were here saying goodbye to Vibert.
"Maureen passed away at the Homerton Hospital on the 11th of December, 2016; she was 70. She had been ill for a number of years having been diagnosed with a melanoma which led to the loss of the sight in one eye. But the treatment she was receiving seemed to be working and then, in more recent times, this September you were given the terrible news that this was no longer the case, and she developed a brain tumour. This impacted on her mobility and her independence, and eventually she was no longer able to get out of bed.
"She was taken into hospital when the district nurse was concerned about her, but you were expecting her to get better. She didn’t appear to be in too much pain and in general she seemed quite perky, and hoping to be home again, maybe in time for Christmas.
"But things suddenly deteriorated rapidly. You rushed to get in to see her. Pam was able to get there, and Angela and the children just made it before she passed away. So they were able to say goodbye.
"You’re still in shock that this has happened. You knew how ill she was but you thought you’d have her with you for much longer than this. And friends and neighbours can’t believe it either – she was so well known in the neighbourhood, you’ve been stopped in the street many times by people asking after her. Even the postman and the local taxi driver. And you’ve had to break the sad news that she has gone.
"Everyone loved Maureen; she was able to make friends wherever she went. Even those she had never met feel like they knew her as her children were always talking about her, and about Vibert, too.
"Maureen was such an active and independent person. Bright and bubbly. Someone who spread love, kindness and happiness all about her. Always positive and able to look on the bright side.
"And colourful, in both her personality and the colours she loved to wear, especially her favourite blue.
"And most of all, like Vibert, Maureen was all about family – they meant everything to her. Neither had any brothers and sisters and so they both wanted a large family.
"Their four daughters Susan, Angela, Tessa and Pamela. And grandchildren Rhianna, Shay and Brandon, and Eden, Lydia and Drayven. I have spent time with them and they have shared their thoughts and memories with me so that I can lead our ceremony, and of course I had the honour of meeting Maureen too, as we all created Vibert’s funeral together.
Mum and Dad with my older sisters (from left to right), Angela and Susan.
"Maureen found such comfort in that ceremony that we have created a similar farewell to her too, just as she would have wanted. A ceremony that involves all the family in tributes, in prayer, family photos, and later on the grandchildren will give their nanny the pictures they’ve drawn and help close the curtains around her. All soft and gentle like they were when they spent time comforting her when she was ill.
"And sad though this day is, I know that you are also taking comfort in knowing that Maureen and Vibert are reunited once more.
"Maureen, we say goodbye to you with love and respect and dedicate today to you."
Tribute
"Maureen was born in Bow, the only child of Maud and John Kneriem, and so an East End girl all her life. There were a lot of cousins living locally and they played a lot together so she wasn’t lonely.
"Maureen wasn’t one for school, especially when she was picked on by another girl, also called Maureen. One day she’d had enough and yanked her by her plaits. She never bothered her after that.
"As soon as she could Maureen left school to start work, working mostly in factories which she enjoyed as she made so many friends. And the pencil case factory she worked in was very well placed near the Roman Road so she could have her favourite pie and mash as often as she wanted. And fish and chips on a Friday.
"Maureen and Vibert met when they were both in their 30s. A friend of Maureen’s invited her to dinner. ‘I hope you’re not setting me up’ Maureen said to her. Her friend assured her she wasn’t but there was Vibert, and Maureen was struck by his charm and good looks and they finally got married on 9th September 1980 (although, Vibert had asked her many times – she said she needed to be sure!).
"Sadly, there are no pictures of them together on their big day; the camera a cousin had brought didn’t work properly and so the only pictures of them are the ones they took of each other.
"When it was just the two of them they might go on a day trip or to some gardens or the pictures, but once the children came along they were both happy to be at home all together so they rarely went out alone.
"As Maureen and Vibert rarely went out together, date night would be watching a spaghetti western or a Sylvester Stallone action movie after the children had gone to bed. And they loved all those biblical epics – Ben Hur, The Robe, Samson and Delilah, or a musical – Maureen really loved the Elvis movies - but Vibert drew the line at these and Maureen had to watch them on the sly instead.
"The family enjoyed lots of days trips and outings together – Victoria Park, the zoo, the seaside, and Maureen went on all the school trips too. They always went to your parent’s evenings and school work was very important, especially for Vibert who saw to it that you always did your homework.
"Maureen was always there for them. Walking them to school and picking them up, apart from the time she almost brought the wrong child home after chatting to the mother of Pam’s friend a little too long; she grabbed the nearest child by the hand and was nearly home before she realised and had to go back to get Pam who was patiently waiting to be collected.
"Dinner was always on the table and cooked from scratch every day when you were all young. Maureen was an outrageous cook in many ways, just throwing together what was to hand. It might be something fairly standard like macaroni cheese but it could just as easily be bubble and squeak or a fish finger curry. The girls liked to help her, watching all the experiments and it’s probably where you all got a love of cooking too.
"And at Christmas time Maureen and Vibert would start preparing weeks in advance to make sure they had all the goodies in and buy lots of presents – one would be a Barbie of course– and you had to wait until after dinner to open them, as long as you’d eaten your sprouts. And dad would try and get you to save some gifts for Boxing Day.
"Vibert was more of the disciplinarian but Maureen was such a softie, although Angela could be a bit cheeky at times and very determined with it too. One day she cheeked her mum one time too many and was given a smack. ‘That didn’t hurt’ Angela said defiantly. So out came a ruler. And when that didn’t work it was a hairbrush and then the wet wooden spoon. In the end Maureen had to resort to her old favourite and yanked her hair. That did the trick.
"The household was a busy one as there were always animals there too, and usually a cat. They once had a dog – Jumbo – but it was so hard when she passed away that you didn’t get another. Bambi is the newest member of the family, and before that Blondie, who just came in and adopted the family – she knew when she was onto a good thing, and neither Maureen or Vibert could leave an animal in need, even an injured bird from the garden would be taken in. And she was surrounded by her huge collection of ornamental elephants.
"If she was at home Maureen liked to knit, especially clothes for the babies and has passed that skill onto Angela. Or she’d get out one of her puzzle books and do a word search or Suduko. You could find one of her books in every corner and under every cushion.
"Or it might be a jigsaw – animals, flowers or if she wanted a really hard one it was a picture of baked beans or popcorn. The last one she did was with Angela – an Egyptian scene.
"And if she was out you’d more than likely find Maureen at the launderette. It was more like a social club and she could easily wile away the afternoon with her friends Maureen, Jean and Janice, long after the washing had actually finished. She would never have a washing machine at home, despite how much you tried to persuade her. Where would the fun be in that?
"Or she might walk all the way to Leyton to do the shopping, giving her lots of opportunity to talk to whoever she met. If you were with her you could quite easily believe she’d met up with an old friend given how long she’d chat for, only to discover she’d never met the person before. Maureen could happily tell anyone her life story and all about her girls and how proud she was of all of you.
"And it was the same with the grandchildren too. She gave such lovely cuddles, and sing songs with them – twinkle twinkle and I’m a little teapot, and Rhianna always got an ice-cream on the way back from nursery.
"There might have not been much money around by there was one thing that they never went without, and that was love.
"After she lost Vibert, five months ago, Maureen missed him so very much but her devotion to her family meant that she was able to carry on for a time and she had the loving care of her children in return. She cracked her usual jokes, and even when she was so poorly at the end she still managed to flirt a little, kissing the hand of the A&E doctors, and thank the nurses for looking after her, some would call her mum.
"The family wish to thank all those who have shown kindness and care to Maureen throughout her illness. Friends who came to see her when she could no longer get out. And a special mention to Maureen’s carer, who helped her so much and became more like a friend.
"Maureen was such a special lady. She kept in good spirits right till the end and would want you to do the same too.
"You’ll miss her so much and it’s of some great comfort to know that she and Vibert are now together and will always be watching over you.
Kade's Speech
"I had the honour of meeting Maureen and Bert in what appears to be another lifetime. Perhaps this speaks to my handle on time, or just the mark that they left on my life, personally, and without a doubt – the life of their beautiful family. I’ve already said my share about Bert in such a setting, and will likely always have something to say, but regrettably, this is the moment for his better half, Maureen.
"As always, I am going to have to speak honestly from my own experience, as one can’t help but indulge in a bit of narcissism when trying to honour the loss of someone near and dear.
"When I was first introduced to Maureen at the front door of their house, she trotted through the hallway with a firm expression etched across her face. I didn’t know what I was in for, but I thought Tessa was in trouble, or worse yet, I was in trouble. She got to the door and I was now on the receiving end of a bear hug – the woman has a solid grip – and this became our thing ever since. She referred to me as her man, her boy, her favourite boy, her big boy and a whole host of other flattering terms of endearment that I’d probably spend the entire day covering. After this initial encounter, I was left bemused. I thought to myself, in rather frank terms; “What’s wrong with this woman? How can she be so unbelievably amiable? Should I be on the lookout for a hidden basement or something in this house? This can’t be right.”
"I’ve never known mothers, especially when they meet strangers for the first time, to react in such an outlandishly friendly and welcoming manner. We all know that just like people, mothers tend to be all over the place – some good and some not so great. Anyone can appreciate the fact that many mothers can have an involved and caring touch towards their children as well as other human beings, and conversely, there is no shortage of mothers that fail at exercising basic compassion towards their children. A man I knew once jokingly told his son that while his own mom was great, his wife – the son’s mother – was mad enough to belong inside a padded cell, but that the son had to settle with his lottery ticket. I didn’t get the joke, either. I think the man was just glad that his mother was not as crazy as the mother of his child.
"Anyway, despite all that can be said about the greatness of women who shine in motherhood, Maureen still came across as reality-defyingly odd. Yes, some mothers are exceptionally great, and then there’s Maureen. Her kindness wasn’t some mere transient novelty, only to appear in austere bouts, because since that initial meeting of ours, there hasn’t been one moment – not even in the darkest of times – where I have seen her become visibly angry or unpleasant. Even when she’d be sad, or the family as a whole would be facing real problems – she and Bert shared tortuously punishing battles with cancer – she would fall back on light-hearted humour without dwelling on the negative. Throughout the years, if I was under her care, she would do everything to take care of me; even when I have never once asked for such care, she would go leagues beyond her limits and help out anyway. These were qualities that defied the barriers of normalcy to a degree of frustration.
"Again, I never understood why, but I could not doubt for a moment the fact that I was indeed witnessing something so exceptional that most would have a hard time believing such an experience. She and her husband had a unique synergy – so very different yet so very alike, and they made it work, which probably spoke to Maureen’s extraordinarily unique and kind temperament.
"The reality that has been dawning on me repeatedly, and won’t stop until I can no longer think, is the fact that there was nothing wrong with this woman. In a mixed-up world of mixed up people and ugly vestigial traces of everything that is wrong, she was in many ways, everything that was right. She may have been least interested in handling the ugliness of the practical world, but she was caring and engaging to the immediate needs of anyone she came across without hesitation. This was a woman who shed the deepest of tears for the suffering of others across the world. She may have not harboured an insatiable hunger for constant indulgences, but she gracefully and sincerely enjoyed her own little amusements in life to the absolute fullest. Bert despised sleazy opportunism and material greed – traits that he despondently felt were quite innate to human beings in general, and yet Maureen effortlessly embodied the antithesis to such a mindset. Like I said, she was everything that was right in a world that was always far too wrong, even to her, and with her and her husband gone, it is that much bleaker.
"At least they have left a rich legacy behind and I hope that we’ll always remember Maureen’s extraordinary character and example in life going forward. A living embodiment of unsullied kindness and a lifelong lesson in grace. Her motherly care and consideration for all – the worthy and the unworthy – will never be forgotten."
My dad had glorious hair! Here he is in Trafalgar Square.
Today, we would have been celebrating my dad's 78th birthday. It has been four months... And instead of having him here with us, to bemoan yet another celebratory card, we are spending this day remembering him in every way that we can, both big and small, as we hold him near to us in our words, our smiles and forever in our hearts. Having been quite absent, I still can't seem to find the appropriate expression... But my husband has always had an impressive way with words and so penned a beautiful tribute to my father, which he delivered at the close of his memorial service in July.
But before I relay Kade's speech, I'd first like to share the words of the minister, who having never met my dad, collected stories from family members and put together her own few words of which you can read below:
The Minister's Speech Began with a Poem by Clare Jones:
As we look back over time
We find ourselves wondering
Did we remember to thank you enough
For all you have done for us?
For all the times you were by our sides
To help and support us
To celebrate our successes
To understand our problems
And accept our defeats?
Or for teaching us by your example,
The value of hard work, good judgement,
Courage and integrity?
We wonder if we ever thanked you
For the sacrifices you made.
To let us have the very best?
And for the simple things
Like laughter, smiles and times we shared?
If we have forgotten to show our
Gratitude enough for all the things you did,
We're thanking you now.
And we are hoping you knew all along,
How much you meant to us.
"We have gathered together to say goodbye to Vibert. A much loved
husband, father and grandfather. And a good and kind neighbour to those he knew
and those he didn’t, a man who would help anyone out if he could.
"Vibert died on the 10th of July in Homerton Hospital;
he was 77. [His family remained with him in his last moments but it was] Pam [my younger sister] who was with him in the end. He had suffered with poor health for many years,
ever since being diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma in 1990.
"He hated being in hospital and had been a patient many times over
the years. But throughout those years he still thought about others, often putting
the needs of everyone else above his own. He was not one for socialising, but everyone knew about Vibert,
even if they’d never met him as the family was always talking about him. The
doctors and nurses all knew and liked him. The girls’ teachers enjoyed seeing
him at parents evening. He was always so charming and likeable.
"Vibert was all about family – they meant everything to him. His
wife Maureen. Daughters Susan, Angela, Tessa and Pamela. And grandchildren Eden,
Lydia, Rihanna, Drayven, Shay and Brandon. I have spent time with Vibert’s family and they have shared some
of their thoughts and memories with me so that I can lead our ceremony and tell
you a little about Vibert’s life. And later on we’ll hear a more personal
family tribute read by Kade, Tessa’s husband.
"We’ll also see a slideshow of some of the family’s favourite
photos taken over a lifetime of happy times together.
"Vibert loved listening to music - Jazz, Country and Western, Fats
Domino and he was always singing or whistling and would drive the family mad by
tapping his plate in time to the rhythm as the family ate dinner. Later on
we’ll hear one of his favourites, Johnny Cash.
"Vibert wasn’t a religious man but naturally at such a gathering we
all have our own beliefs and ways of looking at the world so we will take time
for reflection and prayer so that we can all think about Vibert in a way that
is meaningful for us.
"Vibert we say goodbye to you with our love and respect and
dedicate our ceremony to you."
Tribute
"Vibert was born in Georgetown Guyana and raised by his aunt and
grandmother whilst his mother was working all day to support the family. Money
was tight and Vibert sometimes had to go without shoes, so he often had to miss
out on school trips. There wasn’t always enough food on the table either and so
Vibert might climb over into the neighbour’s garden and pick the fruit from the
trees, or cut a hole in a sack of rice in town and fill a bowl to take home to
his mum.
"Every morning he had a hard-boiled egg to eat on the way to
school, something he carried on throughout his life and wanted the girls to
have one too. He talked fondly of the freshness of the food and the hot weather
and he couldn’t swim but that didn’t stop him going into a river to rescue a
drowning dog, even though the owner didn’t seem overly grateful.
"Vibert wanted to better himself and be the best person he could be
and felt that he could gain getter opportunities in the UK and so he came to
London in 1960, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts which he wore throughout
the cold English weather despite the advice of a friend who said ‘you need to
get yourself a jacket!’
"Mind you, he was never especially bothered about clothes and pretty
much wore the same sort of thing -black trousers and a white shirt. He’d ask
for things, cardigans or socks, but many of them remained unused in the
cupboards. However he always longed to have a long white silk nightshirt and
finally he has one and wherever it is he’s gone, he’ll be the belle of the
ball!
"Maureen and Vibert met on a bind date. A friend of Maureen’s
invited her to dinner. ‘I hope you’re not setting me up’ Maureen said to her.
Her friend assured her she wasn’t but there was Vibert, and Maureen was struck
by his charm and good looks and they married on 9th September 1980, and when it
was just the two of them they might go on a day trip or to some gardens or the
pictures. And then they became a family. Vibert had been studying medicine
but once the girls came along he knew he wanted to be with the family instead
and provide for them. And so he worked as a civil servant moving swiftly up the
ranks until he had to retire on health grounds.
Mum and Dad in their heyday before us kids came along.
"He saw education as extremely important and so homework had to be
done before anything else, and the girls weren’t allowed out to play. He’d help
out with school work, making sure he’d read the text book first. He was quite a
strict dad, although he’d feel guilty if he’d been particularly cross and would
go out and buy them yet another Barbie doll. There are 170 in the house because
as well as bad conscience buys it was also a Barbie for your birthday or for
Christmas or Easter. And they enjoyed family day trips to Victoria Park or the Zoo,
Southend and Margate. He’d never go on holiday because he was a home bird and
didn’t like to leave Maureen’s mum at home on her own – she was living with
them after her husband had died.
He had dreams of becoming a doctor but gave up his studies in the end to focus on providing for his family.
"Vibert loved his food, although couldn’t cook himself – but made
sure he supervised you if you were cooking his favourite Channa. And he hated
eating out too; much preferring Maureen’s home cooked food. And so it was very
annoying if you were eating out and he’d say he didn’t want any but would end
up stealing your chips.
"He probably thought eating out was a waste of money – he was a
saver, made sure everything was paid up, that he didn’t owe anyone anything and
that his family would be provided for. He collected anything and everything too
– nothing was wasted. A piece of paper only printed on one side could be scrap
paper, useful for working out maths homework. Or one big envelope could be made
into two.
"And he was hopeful about adding to the family finances by playing
the Euro Lottery and the Pools before that. He was never very lucky though,
having had his big chance when he once picked all 10 winners on an accumulator
at the races, but he’d not actually put any money on!
Whilst Vibert was a strict father he was a very soft granddad. He
was so good with the babies. "He’d walk them up and down if they were fractious
in the night. Kept them calmly on his knee when they had their injections and
could get them settled or off to sleep where others couldn’t.
"And they loved him too. His cuddles and his tickles. The walks to
nursery and school, just like he had his own children – in fact he carried on
walking Angela to school throughout secondary school too.
"He’d sit in the corner of the living room in his seat, reading The
Daily Mail or the Times, or playing a game with them and then later when he was
poorly one of them would go and lie near him and pat his hand.
"He was so kind to Maureen’s family. Her father died not long after
Angela was born and Vibert sorted out all the funeral arrangements and then
insisted that her mother moved in with them, dividing the living room into two
separate rooms when she could no longer get up and downstairs.
"When Maureen’s own health was poor he’d always go with her to her
hospital appointments but also find the time to help out others too – getting a
cup of tea for someone in casualty, helping a nurse who was having problems
getting a wheelchair up properly, even getting up from his own hospital bed to
help another patient.
"Vibert’s body was getting increasingly weaker, and this time, he
was just not able to recover and he passed away on the 10th of July.
"It’s still a shock, despite his failing health. Life will be very
different without him, but you can take some comfort from knowing that he is at
peace, still watching over you and safely reunited with the family that has
already gone before him. And looking very smart in his lovely silk nightshirt.
"Vibert believed it was important to talk about things and not
bottle them up and that there would always be a family meeting about any
important decisions. Vibert’s legacy was to love and support his family and to
take care of one another, which you can take forward in your families too and
future generations."
***
Kade's Speech
“Following
on from the great words that have been said about Vibert, I would like to talk
about some things specific to the nature of the man who earned his celebrated greatness
and standing. One can only reflect on and speak openly about his virtues
through one’s own experiences, and in that regard, I certainly have a few
things to say about Bert. The only challenge leading up to this statement has
been the arduous task of paring back so much more – by the volumes of books – that
could be said about his uniquely noble persona.
“It
goes without saying that it is easy to celebrate the qualities of individuals –
too easy, I’d suspect, which is a point that Vibert himself understood and
often acknowledged sardonically about this world. It’s quite another challenge to
see the honour, the principles and the sacrifices of strong individuals as they
persevere in the face of the tribulations of happenstance and personal anguish,
of which Bert was a sage veteran. To really appreciate and celebrate the extraordinary
canvas – both of battle and of prosperity – that is Vibert’s life and legacy,
it is with absolutely no doubt that I say this man’s virtues stood the test of
time under the best and the worst of circumstances, which is a rare testament
to human character.
“He
embodied deep-rooted kindness in the face of a rational cynicism and scepticism
about the world. Anyone who is even vaguely familiar with the Kondell family
will know of their universal generosity, something that was guided by Vibert
and Maureen’s moral compass – a fact that I regret not confessing in absolute
words to Bert himself, for despite the general state of his guarded nature for
his family, and rightfully so, I was always welcomed from the get-go, and
assimilated into his tribe with his arms open in ways that were both surreal
and overwhelming.
“He
judiciously epitomised optimism for his family’s outlook, while still
harbouring a deeply admirable and intellectual grip on the pessimistic aspects
of reality. Vibert often saw the world for what it was, which wasn’t a pleasant
burden to carry, but never once did he let this jade his hopes, expectations
and desires for his family’s unity and happiness. After all, he often snidely
referred to himself as the peacemaker in times of strife, and a problem solver
in moments of chaos, even if it all came at personal cost of great discomfort –
a noteworthy lesson that he tried to teach us all at some point or the other.
“He
took care of everything to the last letter even at his most fragile and without
ever inconveniencing anyone else, and he was a man who wasn’t afraid of being a
paradox of emotions and perspectives because he saw the dreary for what it was
and despite that, he made the absolute best of it all for those whom he
sheltered under his care.
“On
a very personal angle, I found an intellectual kindred spirit in Vibert.
Despite his endless patience and tolerance, he was often least amused by small
talk and was either looking for dark humour or deep meaningful conversation about
history, politics, philosophy and even science – a common pastime that he and I
indulged in often enough to have the rest of the family rolling their eyes, even
to the point of inducing the odd headache. I have always missed such company
and conversation when other matters got in the way. Bringing this up, I am
reminded of something Bert said – in a moment of solidarity – that he and I
would be staring at the same moon and the same constellation of stars no matter
the distance between us on the geography of this planet. That touching
sentiment may no longer be the case in exact terms, but as with all matter in
this universe, I now see him in those stars, and what conversation I miss, I
will continue to relive and have with myself thanks to his many great polemics to
which I was both a co-conspirator and honoured member of the audience.
“To
cleave and whittle all that has been stated down to a closing testimony. I’ll
say that Vibert is a legend! The man fought through the bleakest of ordeals,
especially the medical, and by the decades, like a proud warrior, but also with
the tempered humility of a graceful stoic. It was an honour to have known him,
to have been part of his tribe – to have him as close family and as an
intellectual friend. He will be loved always and will hold a distinct place in
our minds until the day we perish, but not before passing on his amazing and
legendary life to the next generation, who will do the same, just as we have
done with our children – his grandchildren.
“Here’s
to you, Vibert, and the indelible mark that you’ve left on this world – a mark
that we carry forward with absolute pride.”
