Closing a chapter
Sadly, 2025 marks the year I lost both my parents. They passed away within three months of each other. My parents were apart for far longer than they were together, but in the years after they divorced, they managed to broker a peace deal that was beneficial to all of us. Two contrasting lives, and two very different people. He lived in the United States and didn’t want a funeral, so I attended an online memorial in August. Six weeks after that my mum died, and in November, I delivered the eulogy in an east London church packed with roughly one hundred people.
Although still feels very strange to be without them, I’m thankful that I had them in my life for so long. Maybe when more time has passed, I’ll be able to write something in more depth. In the meantime, though, I present fragments from two pieces of text, the tribute I wrote for my dad, and the eulogy I wrote for my mum.
Fragment 1- Alvin White
If you know me at all, you’ll know I’m a big Toni Morrison fan. After he passed, I was re-reading a short essay of hers. Right there in the middle, a single sentence stopped me in my tracks:
‘I can’t tell you how I felt when my father died’[1]
It stuck with me because it’s true. I can’t tell you how I felt when I heard he had gone, but what I can do is try to imagine the world that he inhabited. That way, maybe, just maybe, I can show you how I felt.
I try to imagine what his life looked like almost three decades before I was born. A world that moulded him into the man he became. To grow up in an environment where young people from Jamaica had to leave to seek their fortune, had to find opportunities for a better life in the ‘mother country’.
He told me he arrived in Southampton on his 21st birthday. And I try to imagine what that was like, what that felt like. At 21, I was at home, I had never left London to live anywhere else. I was rooted, even if I didn’t belong. Think about it, you leave your home, your family, everything and everyone that you know to set sail across the Atlantic ocean via the Caribbean sea. A journey that took more than two weeks, stopping off at the Azores. And when you land, it’s cold, it’s grey and you’re a man now.
After I heard the news, I was searching for pictures, photos, memories of some kind and I found an audio recording from 2008, a further reminder where he describes how in the 1950s the British government were chasing him to do National Service. He refused of course.
I remember a man who loved books, literature, reading and current affairs. He was never far from the news or a newspaper. My love of books came from him. He knew my interests and would send me books, newspaper cuttings and once he got to grips with the technology, social media links about Black life in the US, the UK and Jamaica.
What I also know is that he lived a colourful and adventurous life. He was a controversial character who refused to be boxed in or pushed around. He lived his life on his terms even if he had to cross continents again to do so.
Fragment 2 - Ivaline White
I’m honoured to deliver the eulogy today. To represent almost a hundred years of life in a few short minutes is impossible, but what I can do is provide a snapshot, a brief taste if you like of a truly unique individual.
Ivaline was the eldest of 10 children. She was born in Cuba, after her parents travelled there to find work. After they returned to Jamaica they remained in Colonel’s Ridge, Clarendon where Ivaline grew up. She got a scholarship to a College in Kingston. However, despite training as a teacher, she said it was difficult to find regular work. So her dad sold two cows and paid her fare to come to England. Leaving my brother with our grandparents, she set sail from Kingston harbour so that she could make a better life for both of them. She was the first in the family to leave Jamaica.
Arriving in Southampton in March 1954, England was a shock. She said it was so cold, she thought they’d put ice in the bed. Undeterred by hardships and hostility, she worked hard and helped to raise the fare for her brother and sister to also travel here.
She met and married my Dad, Alvin White, and had four more children. Over a long working life, she took on numerous jobs including. Lyons Tea Shop, London Transport, Lyons factory, childminding and office cleaning. In the final years until she retired she spent at British Telecom – as a switchboard operator on Directory Enquiries - a job she loved.
Ivaline believed in family, in fact her family was her biggest source of pride. Always encouraging us to be the best version of ourselves. Not just in an abstract way though, practical help was also there in abundance whether it was a dinner, a bush remedy, or a ‘liccle change’. She would offer a listening ear, and a kind word to anyone that needed it. Genuinely interested in people, she found someone to chat to wherever she went. All ages and all walks of life gravitated towards her, and she never forgot a face.
She loved to learn new things; there was always something on the go, winemaking, breadmaking, knitting, sewing, the courgette and carrot cake side hustle, and of course gardening and growing (her great love). She also appreciated new experiences, afternoon tea at the Waldorf, theatre and cinema trips, holidays, a cable car across the Thames, being interviewed on the BBC, having a discussion on live radio, she embraced and enjoyed it all.
She embraced new technology. From tentative IT Lessons to getting to grips with her own tablet when she was well into her 80s, so that she could keep up with the Royal Family on YouTube.
By 2022, all of her children were of pensionable age and she thought it was hilarious, so we went on a road trip using our 60+ Oyster Cards and Freedom passes. We went to Wanstead on the bus, ate fish and chips and then went for a drink in the pub. It was a wonderful day, and I’ll hold the memory of her warmth and laughter in my heart for many years to come.
But just a reminder, cross her at your peril. Many can testify to being on the receiving end of a firm telling off if your behaviour was disrespectful or inappropriate in any way.
That being said, we can also think of the positive lessons that we learned from Ivaline, of the impact that she had. For me, it was knowing that you have to keep going, that you must do your best, have integrity, ‘look after your one another’, and don’t waste time. And I suppose, whenever I was fearful to take a risk, or make a move I remembered that at the age of 27 she travelled halfway across the world, on her own, into the unknown.
One of her sources of sadness was that she never saw her Dad again, as she said ‘he never got to see the outcome of his efforts’, he didn’t get to see the woman that she had become, and the good life that she made for herself.
So I suppose that one of the benefits of living such a long and productive life, is that she got to see the outcome of her efforts and it brought her such joy. Ivaline poured love and life into her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren. And it is through them and the lasting connections she made along the way that her values, traditions, memories and lessons will live on.
[1] Morrison, T., 1990. The Site of Memory. Inventing the truth: The art and craft of memoir, pp.83-102.
Beautiful tribute to your parents. Please accept my condolences 🙏🏾. I hope this writing and blog is comfort for you.