MOVING TRIBUTE My sister is not a statistic ..shewasamum,anaunt, a grandmother.. a friend
Dorothy, right, with her sister Rose. Hear the full poem at bbc.co.k
AMID the horror of Britain’s everrising coronavirus death toll, a beacon of light shone yesterday.
Powerful, poignant words in an extraordinary poem written by a woman who lost her sister. When Dorothy Duffy read her tribute to Rose Mitchell on Radio 4 and Five Live, listeners flocked to stream it.
Today we offer this abridged version to keep as a symbol of defiance…. and hope.
MY SISTER IS NOT A STATISTIC Tomorrow, when the deathometer of Covid is announced in sonorous tones.
While all the time the bodies still mount and curl towards the middle of the curve, my sister will be among those numbers.
Among the throwaway lines, the platitudes and lowered eyes, an older person with underlying health conditions. A pitiful way to lay rest the bare bones of a life.
My sister is not a statistic.
Her underlying conditions were love, kindness, belief in the essential goodness of mankind, uproarious laughter.
Forgiveness, compassion, a storyteller, a survivor, a comforter, a force of nature and so much more.
My sister is not a statistic.
She died without the soft touch of a loved one’s hand, the feathered kiss upon her forehead, the muted murmur of familiar family voices gathered round her bed
Without the gentle laughter that comes with memories recalled, evoked from a time that already seems distant, when we were connected by the simplicity of touch, of voice, of presence.
My sister is not a statistic.
She was a woman who spanned the seven ages, a mother, grandmother, great grandmother, sister, friend, aunt, carer, giver. My sister is not a statistic.
And so she joins the mounting thousands. They are not statistics on the deathometer of Covid, they are the wives, mothers, children, fathers, sisters, brothers, the layers of all our loved ones.
If she could, believe me when I say, she would hold every last one of your loved ones, croon to and comfort them and say ‘you were loved’.
Whilst we left behind mourn deep, keening the loss, the injustice, the rage, one day we will smile and laugh again.
We will remember with the joy that once we shared a life, we shared love, we knew joy and survived sadness.
You are my sister and I love you.
Nurse Aimee O’Rourke, 39, of Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Margate
Healthcare assistant Thomas Harvey, 57, of Hackney, East London ‘Healthy’ Chloe Middleton, 21, of High Wycombe, Bucks
Bus driver Emeka Nyack Ihenacho, 36, of Highgate, North London
Dr Alfa Sa’adu, 68, formerly of Princess Alexandra Hospital, Essex
Former school caretaker Tracey Foley, in her 50s, of South East London