Last week by an element of chance I found myself at the bedside of my mother-in-law Grace on the night of her death. Is it odd to say that it was an incredible privilege to share that moment, to witness the transition between living and dying and all the physical and emotional resistance and surrender. There’s the call to rise oneself to the extreme importance of the moment in relationship, and to ponder the magical mystery tour that is life.
As intense and emotional as it was that night, there was also lots of down-time, and I passed some of it looking through a photograph album that happened to be in her nursing home room.
Here in these pictures from 1949, she was a 22-year-old beauty with thick, curly, raven-dark hair, really coming into her own power and charisma. She’d been an academically gifted daughter in a large miner’s family in the Forest of Dean and had a scholarship to study at a private girls school and then university.
This is the album of her time in a job managing a farm camp for international young people after the war. There were international work camps in many countries — Grace herself later travelled to Yugoslavia to participate in similar camps. These camps were part of a phenomenon of peace-making, reconstruction and a vision of internationalism that must have felt so rejuvenating and hopeful after childhood years of war and deprivation. They might have also served a practical agricultural purpose, getting food economies strong again. I’m not sure where everyone came from, but a lot of the names in another notebook are Swedish.
I never actually spoke to her in depth about this time in her life. How I wish I had! Clearly from the photos these camps were interesting, exciting, compelling for everyone– they must have been life-shaping and so deeply memorable. You can just see the camaraderie, sexuality, playfulness, fun, charades, theatre, eating, tea drinking… Lots of work, lots of hanging out… A very sociable time. I bet there was a bit of sneaking away for moments of hanky-panky, all this glorious youth being what it always is…
In the fields
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I especially love the following pictures, of the rustic camp-kitchen set up for a meal, ah the teapots and long handled enamel pots of mass catering. Wonder what was cooking in the roasting trays:
And the tables set for eating. The flowers in vases feel a beautiful gesture:
Curious what this was all about, what crazy, hilarious antics:
In remembrance, Grace, of the havoc we caused in the kitchen.
Here’s Grace with men who must have been the real farmers on this farm, based on their clothing.
and another picture–
We know the farm was called Priory Farm but not where it was, and there are many places with this name. What do we think they were growing? Any information most desired and welcomed!
Goodbye, Grace. I have loved knowing you. Thank you for being the mother you were to my husband, and a beloved grandmother to my children. What an exquisite time in your life this must have been– a time of wide enthusiasms, possibility, fresh air, friendships, pleasure and purpose.
Moving. Beautiful – what fantastic photos – as you say, so much youthful vibrancy.
Thank you Annie for writing such kind and lovely things about Mum. The camps were very much a part of their time: simple pranks, echos of the dig for victory campaigns and the land girls and like the kibbutz movement they spoke of youth, the most positive aspects of communism and internationalism- that if we could only know and love each other we would not want to fight wars. This simple and optimistic spirit shows in all these photos and I do wish it could return.
Lovely lovely post and wonderful photographs. Her spirit will definitely live on and on.
Beautiful !
This is a most beautiful way to help celebrate the life of your mother in law. How gorgeous Grace looks. It reminds me how often we feel as if we are in our early 20s, forgetting the age we look to the rest of the world. The best of years… then again she did have George and those grandchildren too! I’m so sorry for your loss too. Nicola
Annie, this is a FASCINATING post. I had never heard of these camps. And would love to read about them. Were they for young people from all over the world/ All over Europe? Germans? Anyway, as ever, your writing allows for all the complexities and niches and fascinations. Thank you!! xoxo (and peace to Grace for her passage to the other side)
Wonderful Annie. Wish I was there back in 1949…Roman x
Hi Roman! Yes! I can imagine that 🙂
Hi Annie, thanks so much for dropping by and following my blog.
I see that you and I had the same experience of losing much moved mother-in-laws this year. I found writing about Peggy very therapeutic.
This is such a lovely post about Grace, what a fascinating person she must have been. The thing I’ve found about ‘losing’ someone who has been through a period of intense suffering at the end is that their death freed us all up to really remember the good times, and hold onto those instead of being consumed by the awfulness of the end times.
All good wishes, and wishing you and yours a long life, Deborah
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Thank you for sharing all of this, Annie. Love the agricultural connection, playfulness and all encompassing love seen in your recollections. xx