RAD­HI­CA DE SIL­VA

Se­nior Mul­ti­me­dia re­porter

rad­hi­ca.sookraj@guardian.co.tt

Songs of faith and grat­i­tude filled Vic­to­ry Taber­na­cle in Fyz­abad on Sat­ur­day as fam­i­ly, friends and ad­mir­ers gath­ered to cel­e­brate the life and lega­cy of singer Su­san Maicoo.

Though she was revered as a na­tion­al icon for her hits, those clos­est to her said she was more than a singer—a de­vot­ed moth­er, a lov­ing wife, a cher­ished grand­moth­er, a con­fi­dante, a cook, and above all, a faith­ful ser­vant of God.

Pas­tor Garvin Thomas and Bar­bera Singh, who of­fi­ci­at­ed her fu­ner­al ser­vice, re­mind­ed mourn­ers of the di­vine in­spi­ra­tion that guid­ed her life.

De­liv­er­ing the eu­lo­gy, her hus­band, Rawle Maicoo, said in her last years, Maicoo, 62, poured her heart in­to wor­ship, record­ing di­vine­ly in­spired gospel mu­sic and leav­ing be­hind a lega­cy of love, faith, and in­spi­ra­tion.

Re­count­ing when he fell in love with her, Rawle said, “I was at­tract­ed to Su­san and fell mad­ly in love with her when I heard her singing. She used her voice to com­mand favour and re­spect. She would walk on stage at a con­cert, and the mo­ment she took the mi­cro­phone, a hushed si­lence would fall. Her voice was a spe­cial gift from God," he re­called.

He said Maicoo worked as a teacher at sev­er­al schools—in­clud­ing Her­mitage Pres­by­ter­ian, Lengua Pres­by­ter­ian, Pe­nal Rock Pres­by­ter­ian, and fi­nal­ly Siparia Union. He said while teach­ing, he and Maicoo raised their four chil­dren while she nur­tured her pas­sion for mu­sic and wor­ship.

Her son Rod­ney spoke of the deep bond be­tween his par­ents.

“She loved Dad­dy. He was her knight in shin­ing ar­mour. It was al­ways Su­san and Rawle. I re­mem­ber Mom and Dad ly­ing on the bed, gig­gling, cud­dling, laugh­ing, and smooching. We would say, ‘Stop that! It’s gross!’ And they would hug and kiss even more.”

Rod­ney al­so re­called his moth­er’s ded­i­ca­tion to mu­sic. “She was de­ter­mined to put her voice in ser­vice to Je­sus. She start­ed hear­ing songs and writ­ing songs. One night, she woke up and heard mu­sic play­ing. She lis­tened out­side and asked Dad­dy where it was com­ing from. The song was play­ing in her head—a com­plete­ly new song. It wasn’t just the melody. It was the full song—verse, cho­rus, bridge—all the lyrics.”

Her on­ly daugh­ter, Jes­si­ca, shared how Maicoo was both a moth­er and a best friend. “Mom­my was a lov­ing per­son. She show­ered us with kiss­es, hang­ing on­to us like a coat over our shoul­ders. In our house, we nev­er lacked af­fec­tion. She spoiled us all. I would com­plain about how she spoiled my broth­ers, but with me, it was no dif­fer­ent.”

Jes­si­ca al­so spoke of her moth­er’s en­cour­age­ment. “Of all the gifts I re­ceived from her, the most spe­cial was that of wor­ship. She said that God had giv­en me a tal­ent and was de­ter­mined that I be bet­ter than her. Now, when I am in de­spair when my back is against the wall, a song al­ways ris­es in me—and that is what we learned from Mom.”

Adam, an­oth­er of Su­san’s sons, strug­gled to say good­bye. “It’s not easy to find the words to say good­bye. She was a fire­ball of pas­sion and love, which I can see in all my sib­lings. From the be­gin­ning, she showed me what love is. Mom was my teacher, and I re­mem­ber her teach­ing me in Stan­dard 3. Her voice lift­ed up in the morn­ing choir, speak­ing to me.”

Joshua, the youngest, held back tears as he re­mem­bered her warmth. “I got spe­cial treat­ment from Mom. She al­ways loved and cared for me more than any­one. She put a smile on my face as well as on every­one around her. I loved the way her voice would pitch when she was ex­cit­ed and hap­py.”

Mes­sages of con­do­lence poured in from fam­i­ly mem­bers abroad, each one echo­ing the sen­ti­ment of loss and love.

Maicoo died on March 23 at the Port-of-Spain Gen­er­al Hos­pi­tal. She had been ail­ing for some time and was ward­ed at the San Fer­nan­do Gen­er­al Hos­pi­tal for six weeks be­fore be­ing dis­charged on March 14.