It has been two years since this website was updated – two painful years in which I abandoned all my projects to walk alongside my mother down a slow, agonising path that ended in her passing on November 4th 2023.
Why I went AWOL
Since summer 2022 I have been experiencing a time of such extremes that were impossible to communicate to friends, colleagues, and readers. I do not wish to publicly share the details, but suffice it to say that I carried far more responsibilities than one individual – however capable – can be expected to deal with, and encountered fresh challenges daily, sometimes hourly.
For this, to those whom I disappointed or left on hold, I am truly sorry. There is little I can say beyond mea culpa – if you have ever cared for a dying parent through a long, protracted illness, then you know. If you have not, then all I can add is that in my personal family culture, it is unthinkable not to prioritise your elders, and it is also unthinkable not to allow someone in my situation some grace and recovery time. My lack of availability during this time does not reflect on me during “normal” times, is all I can say by way of justification.
Gratitude
My deepest, most profound gratitude is due to the colleagues, hosts, and publishers who did not give up on me, but allowed me the breathing space to deal with my situation, my students who waited while I sorted myself out, and my many friends who reached out in support during the darkest time of my life. You all gave me a lifeline that I truly needed, and I will never forget your kindness.
Collateral damage
Since January 2018, I have been a full time caregiver for each of my parents in turn, and both required intensive physical and medical support. I cared for my father part-time since 2015, full time throughout 2018, worked double time after his passing, and ended up with full-blown burnout. Throughout that time my mother already had significant needs, and when her final illness manifested in mid-2022, the situation became overwhelming.
By October 2023 I developed debilitating chronic migraines along with other problems, and at the time of updating this post in October 2024, I am still in need of significant recovery and rehabilitation time. I still have a backlog to catch up with, as well as death admin to complete. I am trying to tackle this as and when I can, but my screen time is significantly limited, and therefore I must request the kind patience of all my associates.
Next steps
I have several book contracts and book illustration projects to honour, seminars to teach, and potentially, new courses to design and promote. I’m not quite back in the saddle yet, but working to a pace that my health allows.
Resurgam – a prayer, a wish, and a promise. I’m doing my best.
Eulogy for my mother, spoken at her funeral
The youngest of six sisters, Alkmini was born in the midst of World War 2 and grew up quite poor and quite oppressed by strict social expectations. Her environment alone gave her a strong drive to gain the means to escape through her own efforts. So, thanks to scholarships from the Commercial High School and the French Institute, she set her sights on Switzerland, where she travelled to alone, with her own savings, to pursue her dream of a career in hotel management.
Alkmini Chaitow, 1942-2023
However, her father’s illness and a lack of funds forced her to return and work here on the island without ever completing her degree. Yet with her intelligence, resourcefulness, and beauty that has remained legendary, she was able to get good positions, especially for a woman of her era. Her family environment pressured her to get married, but she wanted to wait for her fairytale prince… and when she met my father, a true fairytale love was ignited. They completed one another, they healed each other’s wounds, and however successful my father became, he always said that he would never have achieved anything without my mother’s love, care, patience and tenderness.
Everything he did, he did with her as his foundation, and in response to his successes, she created a magical, secret world where there was no pain, no sadness, or anything dark at all, except love and the beauty of nature. They travelled the world together, they lived in England for many years, but they would always return to Alkmini’s magic garden.
If someone were to describe Alkmini in three words, those would probably be “dignity, generosity, beauty”… a Lady with a capital L.
But as her only daughter and only child, I will tell you that that was only the outer Alkmini, the face she turned to the outward world.
The words that I choose, and the Alkmini whom I am saying goodbye to today, is “the soul of a child.” A creature brimming with love, who would be as hurt as a child when rebuffed, whose eyes always sparkled with her own light, and who always wanted to make people smile.
That was the real Alkmini, a little girl who never quite grew up, however much she was entrapped by the social strictures that damaged her more than she would ever admit. She generously shared happiness and joy as she saw it: gifts from her garden, dishes from her own hands, advice from her experience, spirited jokes, and she never let anyone remain sad.
I do not need to tell you about her generosity and kindness. Many people here have experienced it first-hand and one thing that comforts me above all is that my mother will always live in the hearts of all those whom she touched with her love. Every person who has seen this in her, has known the true Alkmini, the Alkmini who found sadness so unbearable that she always made others laugh, and once the clouds had dissipated, she would give gentle advice.
Anyone who fell for her formal pose, may never have noticed the many dolls, toys, and so many flowers that surrounded her. The formality was just a defence, to protect everything she loved with so much strength. And Alkmini would be a lioness if she needed to protect what she loved.
But above all, she was happy in her garden. She knew every flower, every bird, every fruit tree and nothing pleased her more than watching the changing of the seasons, tasting the figs, the wild strawberries, the prickly pears, the fejoyas, and she watched them grow and ripen every year with boundless excitement. Following tradition as she was taught by her grandmother, “Nona Renie”, every summer up until this last year she made sun-dried tomatoes, jujube, raisins, fig-cakes, and jams, and she would always tell stories of her childhood with her grandmother who taught her which wild plants were edible and how to make tasty dishes with humble ingredients. However impressive the formal dinners that Alkmini used to throw, she herself was happiest with fresh olive oil, village bread, olives, and dandelion leaves from the garden.
Alkmini never recovered from the loss of her beloved Leon. The last five years were terribly harsh on her, bringing more losses of two of her sisters, Electra and her beloved Nitsa who could have been her twin. She began recalling her sister Eirini – the first to pass, on the very same date as her, on November 4th.
No matter how much love and beauty surrounded her, whatever I tried, Alkmini had lost her compass. She spoke more and more of her childhood, of her parents, of all those she had lost, and her soul yearned for them. Sadly, this is the hallmark of the past year. And once illness had so reduced her that she was no longer conscious, in her final hours I whispered to her “fly, little sparrow, fly to your loved ones and to the garden where winter never comes.”
And my little sparrow flew away, to where she is whole again, next to my father, where there is no pain. She has found them all again.
But Alkmini would not have wanted tears today. If she saw us like this, she’d raise an eyebrow, she’d smirk, and she’d find a way to make us laugh or impress us with a clever observation or pun. I do not have that gift. I will ask you to remember her beautiful smile, arms filled with flowers, and remember that behind the facade there was the soul of a little girl who could not stand sadness.
So let us place her in the arms of her beloved Leon, and let us remember the best of her, for she deserves it.
