West Indian family Oftentimes we become selfish; self-centered, we become islands all onto ourselves. We somehow forget what family used to be like. Mutryce Williams

We somehow fail to realize in all of this evolution that we’ve become distant and we sometimes even become disconnected. Oftentimes we become selfish; self-centered, we become islands all onto ourselves. We somehow forget what family used to be like.

As I age, I realize that I miss the simpler things in life. I miss those times when the family, as much confusion and as much tribulations there was came together. I know that there are those of us who wished at times that we were not born into the families that we were born into.

We draft our plans. We spend years in calculated thought planning our escape route. We long for that first paycheck, as if it’s our manumission, our pathway to Emancipation. Sometimes the first plane passage or boat ride we could afford, we jet set, because we just have to escape the madness.

But then we grow older and as much as we acquire and achieve, we somehow long for the little things. We long for the Easters, the birthdays, the Christmas.’ We long for those good occasions that brought the family together.

A few days ago I learnt of my uncle’s death and it saddened me immensely. My thoughts went back to those times that I spent with my grandmother at my uncle’s house in Nevis. My thoughts were immediately drawn to my family, the fact that they would be coming together, not for merriment but to bid farewell to one who loved us and to one who made the Williams family, what it was and is.

I do firmly believe that in every family everyone has his or her own role or niche and Uncle Osmond had his. My thoughts in particular went back to the bond that my uncle Osmond shared with his sister, my grandmother Agnes. My thoughts expanded as I compared the relationships that my uncle and grandmother shared with their other siblings as well. My thoughts went back to the way the family used to be, the extended family that is and the way that the family is.

My thoughts went forward to what the family will be like after all of our pillars depart because my generation has become distant. We are not as connected. We know that the other exists but that bond, that bond that my uncle shared with my grandmother and his other siblings to be quite honest it just isn’t there. I know that this is not unique to my family.

My grandmother and her siblings looked out for each other or so it seemed. Someone would have to tell me differently. But from all appearances that’s how it seemed to me. My uncle would visit St. Kitts at least once a week either to do business, see his kids or visit my grandmother but for whatever the reason he made sure that he visited his sister. As if expecting nobility, she would prepare a meal fit for a king.

My grandmother was quite the hostess. She would make sure that by the time he arrived in St. Paul’s that a hot meal was waiting for him. My uncle never came empty handed, that’s another thing that I remember. He always brought with him fish, conch, lobster, ground provisions or some meat whether it be beef, mutton or pork that he had butchered. They never showed outward affection but one could tell that they were so happy to see each other. They would sit and have conversation, then bid each other farewell until they saw each other again.

There were times that my uncle would ask my grandmother if she was okay and I later realized that that meant, whether or not she was good with money. Before she could open her mouth to answer the question, he would reach into his pockets and take some money out and hand it to her and tell her that that was for the meal, and then he would smile. I knew that if my grandmother was ever in need of anything and my uncle had his last penny, without a doubt, without even thinking of himself he would relinquish it to her.

My grandmother and uncle were very close to say that least. She would call Peter or Colin at the radio station in Nevis and send greetings for my Uncle Osmond or Big Willie as he was called in Brick Kiln Nevis. She would then call him later to ask whether he had heard the ‘requests’ or to ask how many people had told him that she sent him greetings. She delighted in this.

All of the siblings were like this and as they aged, they continued loving each other, caring for each other and keeping in touch with each other. The siblings who had migrated to England, USA or Holland would visit as frequently as possible and they would all commune. There was never an ill word or anyone feeling uneasy. They all seemed to love being in each other’s company. I learnt many a things from them especially from my Aunty Elvira who is quite blunt.

It’s sad to say that over the years I too became quite distant because dealing with my great aunts and uncles made remember and long so much for my grandmother, being in their company made me miss her so much more because as I said in every family everyone had his or her own niche.

I last spoke to my uncle last year when he called the house asking for my mother but accidently, as out of habit asked for my grandmother instead… and me out of habit ready to shout, ‘Mommy’ that was a moment…for the both of us.

As I sit here writing, I compare the relationships that I share with some of my siblings and it is sad to say that these relationships pale in comparison to those my grandmother shared with my uncle Osmond and her other siblings. It set me thinking about family. It set me thinking about what family used to be like and had me searching for that ingredient that caused my grandmother and her siblings to have a lasting bond.

In recent years my family has gathered for sad moments and merriment as well…this time because it was impossible for me to get out of professional obligations I won’t be gathering with them. I do love my family dearly and my heart goes out to them in this time of mourning.

I just want to remind them that as we age, as we become more sophisticated, as we aspire and as we achieve, as we move on to other realms in our lives and as we unravel into our newer selves, with what we consider the finer things in life, as we develop a thirst for culture and a flair for the renaissance, we should not lose the essence of family.

We should not become distant and we should not become disconnected. We should not become selfish or self-centered. We should not consider ourselves to be islands. We should not forget what family used to be like.

RIP Uncle Osmond.