The news that Aretha Franklin died last Friday really struck me to my core. The singer was not simply a singer for me, but an integral part of my childhood, who brought power and inspiration to my life through her unique voice.
Aretha was and always will be the Queen of Soul and a legend of our time. Her sound, with its sense of deep longing for something lost and heights of soaring splendour had the strength to pull you to paradise. Those sounds that weaved through so many of her songs have been with me throughout my life, in the background and at the forefront of many of my memories, with that voice as soothing as honey and as rousing as an autumn sunrise.
My mother loved listening and dancing to Aretha’s songs. She would dance to Aretha in the kitchen of our childhood home, armed with a tea towel in front of a sink filled with dishes, shaking her hips and holding her arms up in such a way as only she did, much to the amusement of my sister Linda, who would also be in the kitchen trying to avoid being grabbed and brought into a dance scrum. When I listen to Aretha I am reminded of my mum in many different ways, each song bringing back its own specific memory; snippets of history with their own theme tune sung by the legend.
Next week will be the 10-year anniversary of my mother’s death. It will be a difficult time for me and my sisters and we’ll mark the occasion together with dinner, talking about our mum and what she would think if she were alive today.
Even though it’s been ten years, every day that passes without my mother is hard because there is always something new to tell her, something she’ll never know about me, my life and my sisters’ lives. There is always something to ask her, about our childhood, about what we were like growing up, and answers that her grandchildren will never know. When that biting reality hits every now and then a wave of tears comes and I allow myself to be immersed in those emotions until I feel better again.
Hearing of Aretha’s death brought a renewed sadness to me as the world had lost yet another amazing woman who played such a role in my life.
Just to know that the owner of that voice was still alive was to know that there was still magic in the world, that something could reach the innermost depths of my soul or consciousness. That voice penetrated my mind in such a way as to inspire and be as close to the essence of humanity as possible. And closer to my mum.
Aretha’s family will be mourning in the coming weeks and months, remembering. And as my sisters and I sit around a restaurant table somewhere in Manchester we’ll smile over memories of our mother and laugh at the silly things she used to do. You never really say goodbye to the ones you love, you just learn to live differently when they’re gone, and be thankful that you were lucky enough to have them at all.
Below is a poem I wrote after our mother died ten years ago. I wanted to share it here with you:
Mum’s poem
You loved watching the trees from our window.
The seasonal colours in bloom,
You’d laugh and dance and talk to everyone,
With smiles that lit up the room.
We loved you with an endless strength,
Through the dark times and the light,
Four babies into women,
You gave us that precious right.
But your life was hard and lonely,
A battle to find a place in the world,
Yet you filled our home with joy and love,
As fate’s cruel plan unfurled.
The world chose not to keep you,
Refusing a heart beautiful and strong
And the sun set on all our lives,
When silence became your song
Now the pain for you has gone,
But it burns through us every day,
Memories wash our wounded hearts
As we build new roles to play
Our arms were too weak to keep you with us Mum,
But we’ll carry you through the years,
Homes of laughter and grandchildren will be our gift to you
And at last you’ll have no more fears.
- Christina Curran is a freelance journalist based in Northern Ireland.
