Grow­ing up in Bel­mont in the 60s and 70s, my fond­est mem­o­ries are of a strong com­mu­ni­ty, fam­i­ly and ex­tend­ed fam­i­ly val­ues and spir­it. While you were aware of so­cio-eco­nom­ic chal­lenges and con­straints, the strong sense of neigh­bour­hood and neigh­bours act­ed as a check and bal­ance.

Car­ni­val, ca­lyp­so, steel­band and so­cial ac­tivism re­flect­ed the Zeit­geist.

No ob­sta­cle or chal­lenge was seen as in­sur­mount­able. This is not to say that every­thing was “hunky-do­ry.” No! Not by any stretch of the imag­i­na­tion.

“But mak­ing do with what you have,” “be­ing nei­ther a bor­row­er nor a lender is” and “eat lit­tle and live long,” were all in­to­na­tions and gen­er­al rules.

Sin­gle-par­ent moth­ers, in par­tic­u­lar, ruled their roost with iron fists and un­bend­ing moth­erisms. They were both fa­thers and moth­ers and didn’t shirk their dou­ble roles, un­flinch­ing.

“Spare the rod and spoil the child” was rule num­ber one and rules num­bers two to ten were all re­ferred to as rule num­ber one. “Don’t hang your hat where your hand can’t reach,” “drunk or sober mind your busi­ness,” “blood runs thick­er than wa­ter,” and “speak your truth and speak it quick.”

On more than one oc­ca­sion I have said or writ­ten about the joy of grow­ing up with a sin­gle par­ent in Bel­mont. I have made no se­cret of the love, re­spect and ad­mi­ra­tion I have for the two women who cared for my broth­ers Garth and Sean, sis­ter Ar­lene and I—shaped us—nur­tured us in­to the hu­man be­ings we are.

And might I add the many in­di­vid­u­als, too many to name for whom, Jen­nifer Lewis nee Sa­landy was a sec­ond moth­er, aun­tie and granny. Be­tween my moth­er and her sec­ond moth­er Beryl “Aun­tie B” Carmicheal (Yes! rel­a­tive of Stoke­ly Carmichael and Aun­tie B’s broth­er Os­car Sealy). The num­ber three Bed­ford Lane, Bel­mont clan was nur­tured. Old school vibes and val­ues blend­ed in with the re­al­i­ty of the times.

The 60s and 70s were chang­ing, rev­o­lu­tion­ary and trans­for­ma­tion­al times in T&T. In­de­pen­dence, Black Pow­er, Civ­il rights...Car­ni­val, ca­lyp­so and steel­band meant dif­fer­ent things to dif­fer­ent seg­ments of the so­ci­ety. You ei­ther stood for some­thing or not. You ei­ther had the courage and fear­less­ness to stand up and be count­ed or not.

The pass­ing of my moth­er Jen­nifer Lewis on the morn­ing of Wednes­day, June 8, 2022—there are no words that I can write or say that can ad­e­quate­ly ex­press the raw pain and ‘heart­bro­ken­ness’. But my broth­ers and sis­ter and I—our chil­dren—are com­fort­ed by the truth that in fight­ing against the odds, in be­ing in­domitable, our moth­er’s call­ing and pur­pose were lived and com­plet­ed.

The world has changed. T&T has changed. But the im­por­tance of par­ent­ing be it sin­gle, two-par­ent fam­i­ly or ex­tend­ed fam­i­ly is still in­valu­able. The im­por­tance of com­mu­ni­ty and neigh­bour­hood is still price­less. If T&T has lost its way it’s be­cause as a so­ci­ety and com­mu­ni­ty, we have and con­tin­ue to place mon­ey, the ac­qui­si­tion and hold­ing on to it, as the be-all and end-all. More im­por­tant than fam­i­ly, par­ent­ing and com­mu­ni­ty. Sin­gle-mind­ed ma­te­ri­al­ism and con­sumerism have fos­tered a deep pro­found self-con­tempt for what mat­ters most.

There are those who al­lege the old school and tra­di­tion­al way is no longer rel­e­vant. What was once good par­ent­ing is now viewed as men­tal, emo­tion­al and phys­i­cal abuse. There are so many con­flict­ing the­o­ries and schol­ar­ly pa­pers about what is good or not so good.

Hard-line and hard-core par­ent­ing and guardian­ship are no longer the things.

Who knows what are the an­swers to the many per­ceived and re­al ills and chal­lenges fac­ing T&T in this post-COVID-19 era.

But those of us who face the re­al­i­ty of griev­ing and say­ing good­bye to old-school par­ents and grand­par­ents. The pas­sage of time will not dim the mem­o­ry of the per­se­ver­ance, de­ter­mi­na­tion and ded­i­ca­tion of their love.

Los­ing a moth­er is one of the deep­est sor­rows a heart can know. Some­one told me a few days ago—or that should be re­mind­ed me—that a moth­er is a son’s, first love.

Rest in peace mom­my, granny, and aun­tie. We love you. You are our hero. We will miss you. Thank you for mak­ing us who we are. Your un­con­di­tion­al love saw us through many of life’s ups and downs. A life well-lived.

A moth­er’s love mat­ters.