Good day to all... I am really appreciative of everyone who has been there during this time of grieving for myself and my family. It has warmed my heart to be able to receive such affection from friends near and far. I want to share with you the Eulogy I wrote. It is in English and French... Please share your thoughts and comment below... --Bonjour manmi,
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| Grandma and her husband Franck Fouché |
Thank you all for gathering here for this
ritual, this ceremony of celebrating my grandmother Jacqueline Fouché. Thank
you to the people who vocalized their past, their love, her art, with you.
Thank you Maguy Metellus for bringing this celebration together for everything
that is the complexities of this woman of small stature, and a grandiose Lady called Jacqueline Fouché.
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| Grandma and I at my graduation from Con. U. |
As our (hostess) Maguy told you just now,
my name is Kym Dominique-Ferguson. I have had the privilege and the honour of
being my grandmother’s first grandson. Over the past 13 years, 6 months and 16
days, I have had the honour and privilege of having lived with, then when I
moved out, visiting on a regular basis, my grandmother.
You have heard from friends, family about
what a great woman she has been in the Haitian community. You have heard about
her artistic side. You have seen photos of who she was, became and is to me
today. You have seen the beauty of her youthfulness, and the wisdom of her
graceful aging. 
But you have never been her grandchild. You may have been a
daughter, a life-long friend, a pupil at her knee, but what I shared with her,
what I am about to share with you, is an experience comparable to none.
Les personnes dans la salle qui ne
comprennent pas, c’est qui cet homme qui parle anglais qui prétend être le
petit fils de ma Jacqueline. Je vous prévient d’une seule chose : c’est ma
grand-mère! Ma manmi! Et mon français rék écrite n’est pas le meilleur au
monde. Oui, j’aurais pu demander à quelqu’un de corriger mes mots, mais je suis
dans mon deuil et il n’y a personne qui lira ces papiers avant moi, devant vous. De plus, ici présent sont des
membres de ma famille qui ne parlent pas le français, et j’aimerait qu’eux
aussi, dont mon père, mon cousin José, ma compagne June et mes amis qui sont
tousses venu ici aujourd’hui puisse comprendre.
Ceci dit, ma grand-mère ne comprenait point
l’anglais. C’était la seule faute en ayant un petit-fils qui était plus
anglophone qu’il était bilingue. Mais, elle comprenait autre chose qui vous
sévira encore mieux : les émotions. Même si ma mère et moi ce parlait, ou
s’éngueulait en anglais devant elle, elle comprenait toutes les émotions qui
passait entre nous. Je vous préviens, je ne suis aucun protocole. Je vous parle
comme je suis confortable, et comment je serais le plus honnête.
My grandmother and I instantly connected. I spent a lot of time
away from her, and one would think that it would lessen the emotions felt from
far. Honestly, when I was younger, I was not the best grandson. I called her
mostly when I wanted something. I was stupid, but, being honest with myself,
before the year 2000 I didn’t really know who she was.
I didn’t really appreciate WHO she was more than my just my
grandmother. I never considered mortality, didn’t think that one day, she would
not be here so that I could visit her on Sundays to continue our conversations
about art, about retirement, about existentialistic points of view of how we
exist and how we work in this world.
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| At the lighthouse in Kingston, Jamaica on the road to Port Royal |
When I first was planning my move to Montreal, my grandmother
welcomed me back into her home as if I had gone on vacation for a summer: with
love. She was full of love. This was the first inkling towards my understanding
of who she was. She spoiled me rotten. I got away with almost never doing
chores, staying on the Internet tying up her telephone with dial-up for hours
on end. And she would put me in my place, but mostly I got away with it all,
because she was gramma and I was her grandson.
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| Gramma and her grandson José-Andres |
My earliest memories of her were weekends spent at her apartment in
Ville Saint Laurent, and her apartment on Côte Ste-Catherine next to St Peter
and Paul’s Church. She shared something when I was a child, that to this day,
stuck with me. A lullaby that would have us in stitches every time sang it
together!
- Do, do, ti ti ti maman, do do do, ti ti ti
papa, si li pa do do, krab la pa mange’l, si li pa do do, krab la pra’l manje’l
And the song would go on, and the part that would have us rolling with
laughter as I lay beside her in her huge bed was:
-
DO DO TI TIT! KRAB N’AN KALALOU A SANTI BON!
Even when I was older, 21... 22... 31... 32... We would laugh about it. Laughter, that was
something I will always remember about her. She could laugh like no one else.
Et quand elle riait, son ventre riait
aussi! Comme si elle était la maman Noel! C’était quelque chose que j’adorait
la voir faire tout le temps qu’on pouvait je pouvait la faire rire. C’est comme
si malgré toute la peine qu’on pouvait souffrir
avant ou après ces moments là disparaissait. Rien d’autre n’existait que
moi, ma grand-mère et son rire. J’aimerais encore partager deux moments qui
me tient à cœur. Mon père ici présent pour me supporter, est seulement
anglophone. En ce moment je retourne à l’anglais parce qu’il ne parle point le
français et ce n’est pas bon de parler des gens dans une langue qu’ils ne
connaissent pas.
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| Con U Graduation L-R: Mum, Mom, Gramma, Me, & Dad |
My father only speaks English, and since he and my mother came together and
created me, he had never held a complete conversation with my grandmother,
because she never spoke English. There would be broken words here and there,
but nothing significant. I was proud in 2006 when my father came and visited as
he was completing a decade long project, I served as their translator for over
an hour of conversation. As I struggled in finding the correct words to
translate their sentences, they seemed to glow as if a new understanding, one
of the other, was occurring. They both told me on separate occasions how happy
they were to have finally been able to communicate.
Manmi changed my life with those words. With those words she let me
know thousands. I was the one she would rely on. She set me on a path to
freedom, to get to where I want to be tomorrow.In the past three months since her age began catching up with her,
my mother came back from Haiti and took the reigns from me. When I would visit Manmi,
she was quieter, less talkative, but the fierceness in her eyes was a lightning
bolt. Even though she was fatigued most of the time and needed rest, the fire
of the woman she always would be was ever-present in her look. I told her I
loved her, every time I could, je t’aime manmi. She would always reply “moi
aussi”. Des fois je me demandais si c’était moi qu’elle disait qu’elle aimait
ou elle meme! Heh! Je niaise!
Merci maman d’avoir pris la relève. Malgré le titre, je ne me sentais plus comme
son poto mitan. Elle avait besoin de toi à ces côtés.
Je suis fière d’avoir été la avec elle
durant cette période de plus qu’une dizaine d’années.
It was my privilege to
call this wonderful, beautiful lady my manmi, ma grandmere, and I will never
forget her.
Thank you all for being here today to celebrate, thank you to my
parents for supporting me during this time, allowing me to mourn and giving me
the strength to hold on.
Thank you to my friends for their kind words, text
messages, and everything social networking allows us to utilize as
communication.
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| Mom, Aunt and Gramma at the lighthouse in Jamaica |
Thank you to my grand-mother’s daughters, my aunts for coming together and
organizing this afternoon of celebration, it a tribute that is worthy of my
grand-mother. I must say a special thank you to my cousin Harry Serres, my
grandmother’s nephew who was ALWAYS there for her, always more than willing to
drop what he was doing to help my grandmother. Thank you. And last but
certainly by no means least, thank you also to the hostess with the mostest: Maguy
Mettelus, a friend of my family for eternity, an integral part of today’s
proceedings.
Ma grand-mère et moi avaient une blague
qu’on ce disait de façon répétitive, quelque chose qui nous faisait rire sans
cesse: « Eh Bien BRAVO! » Si je pouvais lui parler maintenant pour
lui demander comment elle va, j’imagine que ça se passerait comme ça:
Moi: «Mami! Comment ça va hien?»
Mami: «Bon j’ai rencontré dieu, j’ai
parlé longuement avec ton grand-père et mon mari Franck, tout va bien ici
oui.»
Et moi je répondrai : «Eh bien! BRAVO!»
Merci encore de votre présence.
Manmi, tu es toujours la pour moi, je te
ressent a chaque jour.Je t’aime manmi. Je te salue comme je t’ai
saluée chaque fois que je venais te voir.
Bonjour Manmi.
--
Thank you for reading
See you on the other side
--
Kym Dominique-Ferguson
The Jamhaitianadian
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