Our Black Pearl
Photo credit: Marcia Willis Stewart
Our Black Pearl...Pearl Rose Willis-Stewart was born on October 20th, 1932, in Mocho, Clarendon, Jamaica.
On this October 20th, 2020, with love, gratitude and heartbreak we reflect on beginnings, ends, spirals and sacrifice...and we ground ourselves in our blessings.
On April 7th, our Black Pearl...our Mom, and Grandma...passed away peacefully in her beloved home in the hills of Jamaica. She was buried on April 25th in a quiet area of her garden...the way the mountain people of Jamaica have done for generations.
We could not have imagined that when Mom passed, we wouldn’t be there, in Jamaica, to carry her...to be in the space of the familiar death rituals...to gather, to grieve, to say “see you later”. But a single virus, the wilful neglect of world leaders and our own relentless destruction of the planet altered our realities in incomprehensible ways. The unimagined and some of the unimaginable is the new truth.
Yet, in the midst of our heartbreak we are thankful...
She rests in the place she loved...
Mocho...where the soil is red, and the rainwater is sweet...
Mocho...where mornings mist rests on vibrant croton leaves...and the moon is a time machine.
Mocho House owes its emergence to her...the source….and to all the generations that came before her...
Mom was a woman of incredible faith, hope and resilience. She was Tallawah. She was also sensitive...funny and mischievous. This is a time when we need all of that...and more.
Her shoulders were broad...she was proud of this. Her hands were strong...they guided hundreds of babies into the world, they healed wounds...and when they could, they played the keys of her precious piano. Her legs, for years, moved her at high speed...literally. That woman didn’t do leisurely walking! In later life though, she seemed to glide from one room to the next in her beloved home. She had a twinkle in her eye and a stunning smile...but when that same mouth decided to ‘chaw fyah’...lawks...we were all done for!
Far too many people said, that she was ‘like a man’...some said it with admiration...some with judgement...some just didn’t know how to acknowledge the strength, courage, ‘take no bullshit’, of a woman who dared to be herself, and to fight for her autonomy and independence...even if it cost her at times. She was not saintly, or angelic. She was altogether human. She made mistakes and she could be harsh at points. It was not always easy to be her child. As she got older, she dreamed more of love...she became softer...more tender. She imagined a more romantic life for herself than she had been able to create.
For us, it’s important to remember her in the wholeness of who she was. It gives us a sense of peace...a chance to learn from her including things she struggled with.
If we were doing a film of her life, Mom would have expected it to include a beautifully operatic score, and a dramatic but ‘tasteful’ narrative...such was the phenomenal woman that was our Black Pearl of a Mother and Grandmother...
May she Rise In Power and Rest In Peace with Our Ancestors.
Asé