Burley Road Is Broken

 On the 11th September after 4.15pm, I was standing outside the chapel at City of London Cemetery paying my respects to an old neighbour and friend Danny Heron. The final song was 'Show Me Love' by Robin S. I looked around at the sea of people who all came to say goodbye. We were all showing him love, showing him pain, showing him tears, showing him sadness. For a moment I saw his piercing blue eyes and warm smile, I even heard him say "All these for me, leave off". Anyone looking at the amount of people there would have wondered what he did to touch so many. 

Danny shared laughter as a young boy with me, my brother and other friends in the area. He enjoyed Shipman Youth Club Tuesday night disco with us all alongside his twin brother Jason. Back then, Madness was one of his favourite bands among others with artists on the Two Tone label. The two of them would go out in their navy blue crombies, Fred Perry shirts with jeans and jodhpur boots. They both took their meticulous 'put together' look very seriously. As Danny got older he became more gentle and quieter, he became the steady one among some of his wild and sometimes reckless friends but then, his unforgettable, loud laugh would jolt you back to realising that he really was a big presence.

Having seen Danny a few years ago at the funeral of one of his best friends, I ran into him and his wife Tina last year. they came into my favourite Indian restaurant (theirs too) in Essex to collect their take-away. It was not ready so they sat down at my table. It was a bit like a speed date, trying to get as much catching up done before their food was ready. It was so good to see him again as it had been a few years before that. Speaking to him that night I was pleasantly reminded of what a gentle soul he was, a real prince among men. I will miss him, like so many of his friends will. His entire family feel his loss so deeply, a loss they will have to find a way to manage. I keep hearing the song 'The Prince' by Madness, it always reminds me of him and like the song ends; Bring Back The, Who Is The, We Want The Prince.....                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

God bless you Dan and may the arms of your wonderful parents enfold you.

I dedicate this blog to Peter and Phoebe Heron. 

Thank You For The Orange Juice

 

©Lady Priscilla Etienne Funeography®

©Lady Priscilla Etienne Funeography®

Mrs Graham was just that to me; occasionally I would use her name Esther, but always after I used her official title. Esther and Sid lived in their home at Kerry Close Custom House, for many years. They had ten children, Dennis, Sid, Vera, Yvonne, Corrine, Janine, Lorna, Wayne, Kieran, and Harry. Their son Harry was a very close friend of mine. Being part of the 'Kerry Close' community was a great thing, it brought with it a sense of freedom and endless time, just nearby was another little peace of community heaven, Murray Square. All over Custom House there were little pockets of the same. In the summer we'd be hot and thirsty running around, but we never had an endless or regular amount of pocket money. More families were bigger then; mine included, and there wasn't always enough to go around, running into a sweetshop for refreshments didn't happen every day. When the heat got too much Esther would come to our rescue. She would make orange juice for us and put them all on a tray in plastic cups and we would rush to get them, like marathon runners at a water stop. 

Esther and her husband Sid, lived through a time when mixed couples were just not tolerated at all. You had to be made of very strong stuff to withstand harsh abuse both verbally and sometimes physically. Esther and Sid were among the early beacons of hope for other mixed couples. She was clearly placed on a pedestal by Sid, and he affectionately called her 'Duchess', she was everything to him. Custom House then, was not necessarily considered the most popular place to set up home for people of colour, although the neighbouring area Canning Town was growing into one of the largest black communities in London, with over 100 families living in the area; other places deemed as popular for the Caribbean community were; Forest Gate, Brixton, Notting Hill, Clapton, and Stoke-Newington. 

On Friday 11 September, Esther's funeral took place. As I approached the close I could see the horses and carriage outside Esther's family home. There were family members as well as some friends milling around the entire close. It felt like the whole close was one family at that moment. I paid my respects to some family members, then watched Esther leave home for the last time. I went on to the cemetery to wait for the cortege there. I was met at the cemetery with more family members. Even though I know the Graham family is very large; I was reminded of the scale when I saw them all together. After around fifteen minutes the cortege arrived and the first cars door opened. Esthers' son Harry came out of the car and straight into my arms to hug me and thank me for coming. Although he hasn't physically seen me for many years it still felt like before, when as kids we used to throw arms over each others shoulders so we could chat while walking along the road.                                                                       

Restrictions resulting from the recent pandemic meant that only a certain number of people were allowed in the chapel; but I think that would have been the case anyway since the family is very large. I stayed to see Esther being carried into the chapel to a fitting song, 'You're The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me', by Gladys Knight. Unfortunately I had to leave soon after they went in for the service, because I had to be at the second funeral of the day. It's the knowing that Esther is no longer here at all that feels strange. Like her dear husband Sid before her, there was a nice nostalgic feeling and security knowing that she was still here, now they are both gone that particular chapter in my life has in effect come to an end. God bless you Esther, and may you have eternal peace and light with your beloved Sid. 

Thank you for the orange juice and being part of the fabric, that is my life. 

I dedicate this blog To the wonderful Sidney Graham.

 

  

 

Farewell Ma Lynch, Its Been Good To Know You

©Priscilla Etienne Funeography®

On Wednesday 7th May, Sharon Lynch was laid to rest. Her daughter on the right would sometimes call her dad pa. A nice old and familiar term for a father. Sharon was definitely ma, a mother figure for so many.

I have known Sharon for a number of years, since the age of 13-14 years old. She watched us make some horrendous fashion mistakes, and our excitement about a night out when we were old enough to do it. If we asked her opinion about whether something looked good, or if it suited us, she would tell us straight that she didn’t like it and to try something else. Rather than force her opinion as to what the reasons were, she would just leave us with the time to re-think it.
I can honestly say, I never heard her raise her voice to her children,  {two girls and a boy} she just had a particular look on her face and would use fewer words, enough to let you know she’d be talking about it later.
She was never in a rush and we always felt relaxed around her. Sharon always had time to listen to all of us. We sometimes would eat in the pie mash shop that her sister Rita had,and as other customers started to come in she would move us to a corner so that we wasn't in the way, we'd only have to leave if it got too busy. It was one of the few places that we didn't get thrown out of.

The coronavirus prevented me from being at her funeral, or standing alongside so many who social distanced to bid her farewell on her final journey, as I have a high risk family member.

When I look back on my life I can remember a few parents like Sharon who were instrumental to my experiences and what I learned about family values and the importance of looking out for each other.
Rest in peace Sharon, it's been good to know you.

Victims Of Crime

                                                           

  ©Lady Priscilla Etienne
Kiyan Prince 18 May 2006

How many more untimely deaths can we take?


I need to point out that the term 'victims of crime' shelters beneath a very big umbrella. Primarily the victims family suffer, and then the perpetrator's family, friends, partners, husbands and wives. It causes a ripple affect for all extended family members on both sides. Most of the younger victims of crime we hear about are oftentimes in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or they were trying to smooth a group argument, protect someone else and were even in fear of their own life. The latter has at times resulted in the victims losing their life by their own instrument.

There are remarkable people who are working tirelessly to re-educate young people about the choices they make when it comes to human life. The simple action of thinking first, retreating instead of advancing, and the benefits of doing this are being discussed in many schools, colleges and youth clubs around the country. Where are these rich and valuable amounts of advice and guidance going?
Are they falling on deaf ears? Because there's still a lot of teenage genocide happening. We will end up with a pretty big generation gap.
      When the Grenfell fire happened, the community came together as one group, bravely and publicly displayed their anguish, and began their fight for justice for their friends and family. Their voices were heard because they all worked together to deliver the same opinions and beliefs. The people that lived at Grenfell all suffered the same needless tragedy, so they all have a common goal of a satisfactory and fair outcome for all involved.

In 2010 I had the honour of working with the parents of ten families who lost their children to gun and knife crime and gang violence.They kindly let me and my colleagues into their homes, places of work, and into their lives.  Seven out of the ten sets of parents we worked with started their own foundations in their taken children's' memories. I began to think then, as I do more so now {in the wake of Grenfell} that these foundations could have their voices heard much louder if they were joined together as one large foundation.
    The murder of Stephen Lawrence in 1993 was a shocking turning point. There were not so many murders like his happening then. The work Stephens mother began with building his foundation led to some great things and of course her tireless fight for justice for her son, led to her O.B.E. It was a hard fight for her but his was the first foundation so there was no competing with anyone else for recognition or publicity. A primary foundation like his would be a perfect platform for all the other parents to become part of. A large foundation for all the victims with an appropriate name. I really believe it's time.

I dedicate this blog to some young people who are greatly missed every day by family and friends.

Stephen Lawrence, Kiyan Prince, Sabina Rizvi, Charlotte Polius, Terry Booker, Tommy Harley, Robert Levy
Anton Hyman, Daniel Ross, Damilola Taylor, Ben Kinsella, Michael Simon Wright, Bobby Litambola, Adam Regis, Stephen Lewis,
Danny O'Shea.

Death And Sausage Rolls

©Lady Priscilla Etienne

It is the morning of the funeral that I'm attending instead of covering. I always think of having a cup of tea first, getting dressed, then have breakfast. Trouble is, I never seem to be able to manage the breakfast. My stomach churns and I feel nervous and anxious. It seems most of us do, so we tend not to eat.
         When we suffer the shock and grief of a bereavement, everything we swallow after that has no taste and has a distinct texture of cardboard. So we have the long time leading up to the funeral barely eating, then virtually nothing on the day. Food deprivation plays a big part in feeling unwell and physically unstable after a bereavement. Meanwhile for those of us that drink alcohol the odd drink or three can help a little.

Gradually over the years, I have seen this change. I have attended a funeral where it was so beautiful and lavish (exactly like a wedding), the food of course was amazing and a lot of effort went into the presentation of the food. I remember thinking how wonderful it was to see that all of the mourners were considered. It can be a long process, from funeral service to the wake, and it's usually at this point that appetites can begin to return.

There is a Starbucks bar at a funeral home in South Carolina. The funeral staff are all starbucks trained, a really useful way of mixing sustenance with death. I'm all for practicality and ease during grieving. I was in a cab recently going to a hospital appointment, and just around the corner, we passed a funeral directors albeit out of sight from the front entrance, the driver said that she found it distasteful and said that many of clients found it upsetting.
I do not. I find it enterprising to have it so nearby. A refreshing crossover.


See you at the next posting.

The Theatre of Life

Lady Priscilla Etienne Funeography©

If you were asked to recall the greatest moments in your life, could you do it? The birth of your baby, your wedding day, your first job, your first car, or the first house you bought. For each of us there is something different. I could never be accused of waiting in the wings, or blending into the background. I see my life as being theatrical, many times ending up centre stage. I have always been colourful, always drawn to the unusual. In the past couple of years there has been increase in the term 'Making Memories' accompanying pictures being taken and posted on social media. As a photographer when I take a picture I think about the moment it is taken, not what I'm leaving behind.

I still have and use photo albums. I like to feel the pictures, and smell the change of the albums with age. Sometimes they throw up dust when I open and close them (it all adds to the experience) there is nothing like it. I want people to look at my images, see the moment and just for a short time, be there.
This is what I feel life is for all of us.
   We are born, we are given a name, a stage name. We are then expected to develop into the character our parents want or expect. We become the lead part and they remain completely focused on what they want us to deliver.
  When I chose Funeography as a vocation I knew exactly what I wanted to give to my audience. I wanted to give hope, laughter, tears and an accurate reflection of who the person who died was, by capturing the day as well as the many people who shared their life.

I wonder.... When do we know if the whole performace was good enough? If we've given our best, or if everyone who saw appreciated it, or even understood it?
Well, as long as you understood, and if you had to explain your life story you could do it well and to a captive audience.


I dedicate this blog to Terry Ronald, whose life performance has turned into a wonderful book and now poised for a theatrical audience, and for finding incredible strength, despite the exceptionally difficult loss he has so recently suffered with the death of his sister Tina. 

See you at the next posting.

The Waiting Room

Priscilla Etienne Funeography 

                                                             
We're here, going about our daily business, dealing with every day things as well as difficult things.
The next time we are aware, we are somewhere else. Somewhere we don't recognise. Maybe with people we don't know. There's questions lots of questions.
Where are we?
How did we get here? How long have we been here?
How are we going to get back?  
    Upon losing my friend and experiencing grief for the first time, many years ago I imagined 'The waiting room'. A place where you go when you die. The in-between so to speak. There are other people there waiting to be collected. It is always a member of the family that comes to collect you. regardless of how you got there, they are always pleased to see you because they have missed you. If your arrival was abrupt or unexpected they might even tell you off straight after and say; You're not supposed to be here".
I try to picture every detail of the waiting room. There would be landscape pictures on the walls to encourage calm thoughts, to slow the speed of the questions.
It wouldn't be particularly big but there would always be plenty of room. There would be no unhealthy sounds indicating some of the illnesses that people waiting had and no physical disabilities, for when you arrive in the waiting room you have left all illnesses in your physical body.

I always wished that I could sit with those in the waiting room. Maybe find out what last wishes were intended, and if they had seen and spent time with everyone they had wanted to.

Imagine the different ages of everyone in the waiting room and the different achievements in life.
There are always newcomers to the waiting room. In the last few weeks three people I know have arrived.

Dolly Barry
Captain Gerry Coveney
Scott Punnet

These three incredible people are so diverse, they have all lived full and vibrant lives. They have all been big achievers who have made a very strong and unforgettable impact on the lives of those they have left behind. If I could say one last thing to each of them in the waiting room, this is what I would say;
Dolly Barry: You always had your door open for a welcoming cup of tea or a glass of wine. I think you were a really good listener with a soothing calm voice. You were a bit like a counsellor. You had a way of making people feel at ease.

Captain Gerry Coveney: Sir, when I was with G Coy 4RGJ the few conversations we had were valuable to me. I respected you for various things, your firm but calm manner, your kindness, but most of all because you worked your way through the ranks to the position you held with great pride.
I saw the way you held your daughter-in-law and my old friend Lisa, in the highest regard and even though I would see you occasionally outside of army life I never dropped your title sir. On to a place even more glorious, to match your achievements in life.

Scott Punnett: If you have to wait here too long you'll start getting restless, wanting to see all the fabulous friends that went before you. I bet you've been boasting to the other people here, about the tributes that have come flooding in for you. Do me one favour Scott, give Mervyn Webber a kiss and hug from me, and an even bigger one from Lorrayn, she misses him every day. If you can still generate the warmth and love we all had for him thirty years later, you would have definitely made your mark. We'll all miss you Scott, now go and liven the place up some more.