Mum was born to Bertina ("Bubba") and Darcy (Pa) Hinkson in 1933. She grew up alongside her special brothers and sisters, especially Edlah and May and LLoyd. Her sister May predeceased her just two months prior in London. Thankfully, Mum never knew.

Mum spent her entire adult life married to my Dad, the late Desmond Young and their marriage was rock solid. She was a dutiful wife, a loving mother, a doting mother to us, her daughters and her only son Reginald who died October 13, just five weeks and three days after she passed. He was only 49. That rocked my world and it would have devastated her.

Mum moved to London some time after her sister May did, sometime in the 1960s. May was married to Mum's biological brother, Desmond. Mum's life in London revolved around May and her children and raising us. But her real love was for the Lord. She was raised by her Christian parents and while in London, where all her children were born, she ensured that we were all attended St Andrew's Church in Fulham, London.

My beautiful Mother endured racism at the time (1960s-1980s) in London, often being referred to by derogatory word "Paki" while Dad was called a "wog". They were defiant in the face of racism and though (back then) these people of hate burned our home down, Dad bought another in the West End. Life continued as normal. They were not moved.

But the IRA bombings were too much for them. Mum and Dad were raising children in a sort of war zone akin to Kabul, Iraq or Syria. So they took up their roots again and packed us off on British Airways for the beautiful island of Barbados.

For all my years knowing mum and dad, nothing could separate them. Nothing could separate them either from their love of God. Mum devoted her life to St Stephen's Church in the Mother's Union, The Church Army and the Prayer Group. She often woke up at 5 am to attend Church at 6 am for Mass with communion. She ensured that all of her children were confirmed.

In the tough times, Mum never let go of her God. Whether through illness or heartache, she lived for God. I am only glad that Mum and Dad did not live to see their only son die on October 13, five weeks and three days after our mum died. This would have killed her, such was her love for her children.

Quiet and peaceful, mum did not make any fuss, she was a peacemaker. But life took an unfortunate turn for mum. In 2008 she had a stroke. That stroke was the insidious devourer of her memories and her life over time. Mum developed dementia.

The journey of dementia really stole her life. She cried and cried that she wished to die and then something odd came out of my mouth as I wiped her tears away. "Mum, if you trust God enough, he will allow you to pass and join him in his kingdom" and she calmed down. Her dementia continued to ruin her mind and her body and taking care of her was becoming more difficult yet more rewarding.

On September 3rd, mum had a stroke, she slipped into a coma and after being by her bedside watching her cheyne-stoking, I thanked my mum for loving us while playing hymns that friends Doreen, Veronica and Sharon put together. Her bedside was the place that I held her hand and thanked her for loving her children and loving my Dad. On September 5th, Mum slipped away to be with Jesus.

I thank God for her life and for the honour for having her as my mum. I know Mum, Dad and my brother are reunited.

I love you Mum, enjoy your glorified body and mind in the Heavens.

God Bless. I love your Mum.