Last Words
This is really for any friends and family back in England, or friends unable to visit during the shiva here in Naperville. It's the eulogy I wrote and read at the shiva last night. It's surprising how very ordinary beginnings can become almost exotic when viewed across the Atlantic.
Frances Decent was born in London, England in 1931. She was a true cockney because she was born within the sound of Bow bells, the bells of St Mary Le Bow church in the city of London. She lived in London her entire life.
She was the eldest of two sisters, and perhaps unusually for that time she was mechanically minded. She was the first girl in the family to learn how to drive.
Frances met her husband Bernie when she was 20 years old. She was introduced to him by her sister at a Remembrance Day Parade in London. Like her father and brother in law, he was a licensed black taxi cab driver.
Frances and Bernie had three children, Lorraine, Ross and Craig. You might not believe this, but as a middle child, Ross is actually the quiet one of the family. They also had eight grandchildren together and Frances later had four great grandchildren. The Decents are a fiercely tight knit family, who I like to fondly, and sometimes not so fondly, refer to as the Mafia. Fortunately it has only taken a mere 27 years for me to finally be accepted. (I think).
Unlike many women of her generation, once her children were at school, Frances returned to work. By the time she retired she was the office manager of a building society, which is the British equivalent of a savings and loan company, not a construction company. Like most Jewish mothers, Frances was renowned for her culinary skills, but alas not in a good way. We retain especially fond memories of her signature dish, brown stew, made with the British equivalent of two bottles of steak sauce. In 1997 the family was devastated by Bernie’s sudden death. A gregarious, fun loving man, his passing left a huge gap. Soon afterwards Frances became ill and was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease when she was 73 years old. Frances spent the last two years of her life in a Masonic residential care home in Hertfordshire. Bernie had been master of his lodge and both sons and a nephew were master masons. Such was the strength of family Frances instilled, her children, grandchildren and sister continued to visit her long after she had forgotten who they were. When we returned to London last Thursday, Ross joined them in a round the clock bedside vigil. Afterwards staff commented that they had rarely seen such devotion from an entire family at such a time. On Tuesday we had to head straight for the airport from the cemetery, leaving our family to grieve without us.
The fact that we have received such wonderful messages from so many people here in our new home has been an inspiration to us. Although we obviously miss our family now more than ever, we are richly blessed to have found a new family here in Naperville. May her memory be a blessing.
Frances Decent was born in London, England in 1931. She was a true cockney because she was born within the sound of Bow bells, the bells of St Mary Le Bow church in the city of London. She lived in London her entire life.
She was the eldest of two sisters, and perhaps unusually for that time she was mechanically minded. She was the first girl in the family to learn how to drive.
Frances met her husband Bernie when she was 20 years old. She was introduced to him by her sister at a Remembrance Day Parade in London. Like her father and brother in law, he was a licensed black taxi cab driver.
Frances and Bernie had three children, Lorraine, Ross and Craig. You might not believe this, but as a middle child, Ross is actually the quiet one of the family. They also had eight grandchildren together and Frances later had four great grandchildren. The Decents are a fiercely tight knit family, who I like to fondly, and sometimes not so fondly, refer to as the Mafia. Fortunately it has only taken a mere 27 years for me to finally be accepted. (I think).
Unlike many women of her generation, once her children were at school, Frances returned to work. By the time she retired she was the office manager of a building society, which is the British equivalent of a savings and loan company, not a construction company. Like most Jewish mothers, Frances was renowned for her culinary skills, but alas not in a good way. We retain especially fond memories of her signature dish, brown stew, made with the British equivalent of two bottles of steak sauce. In 1997 the family was devastated by Bernie’s sudden death. A gregarious, fun loving man, his passing left a huge gap. Soon afterwards Frances became ill and was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease when she was 73 years old. Frances spent the last two years of her life in a Masonic residential care home in Hertfordshire. Bernie had been master of his lodge and both sons and a nephew were master masons. Such was the strength of family Frances instilled, her children, grandchildren and sister continued to visit her long after she had forgotten who they were. When we returned to London last Thursday, Ross joined them in a round the clock bedside vigil. Afterwards staff commented that they had rarely seen such devotion from an entire family at such a time. On Tuesday we had to head straight for the airport from the cemetery, leaving our family to grieve without us.
The fact that we have received such wonderful messages from so many people here in our new home has been an inspiration to us. Although we obviously miss our family now more than ever, we are richly blessed to have found a new family here in Naperville. May her memory be a blessing.
posted by Hilary at
9:17 AM
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