A TRIBUTE TO MY GRANDMOTHER
 by Raymond J. Hann

Cecily Williams was born on Isle Valen on September 17, 1901. She was the oldest child in a family of ten children, seven girls and three boys. Her parents were John Williams and Julia (Gosse). As was common practice in those times, childhood was fleeting and at the tender age of 17, Cecily moved a few miles across the bay to Merasheen; to work at Uncle -Paul-Wilson's, as a servant-girl.

My grandfather's first wife was Margaret Pearson, a great friend of Cecily. They were the proud parents of one girl, Caroline, and four boys, Stanley, Austin, Jim and Billy. Tragedy struck George's life in 1919 when Margaret died. George was left alone to raise five children, the youngest being 11 months old, and to scratch a living from the sea to support them. On November 6, 1921, my grandfather and grandmother were married. Their marriage was truly a classic example of unconditional love. Together they had seven children.

My mother, Mary, was the first, born on April 10, 1922. Then came Anthony, Edgar, Julia, Violet, Donald and Alice. They raised all 12 children as one big family. At no time did I ever hear anyone make reference to stepbrother or stepsister. It was always brother, sister aunt or uncle.

My grandmother had a lot of love to spread around. I can truly attest to that fact. As a child I spent much time at my grandparent’s house. When I was 12, they wanted me to come live with them. I was quite prepared to do so, but my parents felt otherwise. I vividly recall my dad coming to get me and carrying me home on his shoulders. I was always welcomed at my grandmother's, granted, I did a lot of chores for her and helped her any way I could. Only in my later years did I feel gifted with the wisdom to understand what a great woman she truly was.

Everyone was always welcomed at my grandmother's house. She would always ask if we were hungry and immediately we were treated to her homemade bread and jam. If your hands or face were messy, she would escort you to the sink, in the kitchen, and give you a good scurrifungeing. She always knew without asking if you needed a dollar and always had one to give. Every year for Christmas we received mitts and socks, made with her own two hands, despite the fact that she had eczema so bad her hands would-bleed.

Cecily had a genuine love for God, family and her fellow man. For many years, when she cooked Sunday dinner, the first plate served was delivered to a lonely widower, who lived by himself. She was always called for and present when a new baby was born in the community. The same was true in the case of a death. She was always there to help prepare for the funeral.

My grandmother also found time to single-handedly cultivate and grow a large crop of potatoes, cabbage, turnip and carrots to feed her family. Another of her great abilities was tending to her spectacular flower garden year after year. She would also spread some of her magnificent colour to the cemetery. She faithfully looked after my grandfather's first wife's grave. She would paint the fence yearly and cover the ground with the most colorful and fragrant flowers you could imagine. In the fall she would cover it with boughs and the following year the cycle continued.

My grandmother was always busy doing something she enjoyed.  While berry picking, she always had a crowd with her and packed a lunch. Her bucket was always the fullest. At home she would be working away at a handmade quilt made from scraps of materials she had gathered.

During Cecily's life, she dealt with a lot of tragedy and never became bitter or angry. Her sister Grace, only 16 years old, was accidentally shot and killed while visiting her in Merasheen. Cecily’s son, Billy, died of exposure on Christmas Eve in 1943. He was buried on Boxing Day, his birthday. This occurred while she was pregnant with Alice, her youngest child.

Fate is queer with its twists and turns and it dealt my grandmother another hard blow. On May 2, 1975, the apple of her eye, Sister Alice, succumbed to cancer. Despite a truly disproportionate share of tragedy, their faith was never shaken. It was not uncommon to visit my grandparents and find them saying the Rosary or Pop reading his prayer book.

As the years ticked by, many more changes occurred in my grandparent’s lives. Resettlement forced them to leave their home of a lifetime and move to the mainland. They adapted and grew stronger together. I will always remember how they cared for each other. In my mind's eye, I can picture my grandfather at the sink and my grandmother shaving him.

Unfortunately this too ended when my grandfather passed away on June 11, 1977. My grandmother carried on alone for another ten years until her sharp mind and nimble body ravaged by the effects of an earlier stroke, succumbed and she passed away on September 1, 1986.

I have many great memories of my grandmother, but the one I cherish most, occurred just before her death. In 1985, I left Newfoundland to further my career and moved to Prince Edward Island. I returned to Newfoundland in 1986 for a vacation and naturally went to visit Nan with my mother, Mary. Mom had prepared me for the visit, but nevertheless it was heartbreaking to see this proud, energetic woman, who had such a huge influence on my life, strapped in a wheelchair, talking and laughing about nothing in particular. I approached her, gave her a big kiss and a long hug. For a minute she became serious and looked me in the eye. I said, ‘Nan, do you know who I am?’ Haltingly she said ‘No’. In a joking manner I said, ‘Come on Nan, after all the jobs I did for you when I was younger and all the things we did together, the time I spent at your house, surely you must know who I am?“ Gazing into my eye, nose to nose, I watched her struggle to recall. After a long moment in a low but audible voice she said, ‘It's Raymond, Is it?" I started to cry. She had control for an instant, but in seconds she was back in her own little world. Our visit lasted most of the day. When the time came to say good-bye, I hugged Nan and gave her a kiss. She said, ‘Raymond boy, If I was any good, I'd like to go out and give those boys of yours a big kiss, but I'm not’.

Days later, my vacation over, I returned To Prince Edward Island. I will always remember the phone call from my mother informing me of Nan's passing. I am not ashamed to say I wen? To my bedroom and cried for a long time.

My grandmother truly applied the virtues of faith, hope and charity to her life. My grandmother, Cecily Wilson, devoted wife, mother and grandmother - the greatest person I have ever known.