A tribute to my mother

The video below was created using a Large Language Model (LLM) from a black-and-white photo of my mother, captured around 1960 in Durban, South Africa.

Robyn Elaine Meredith

As I sit down to write this, my heart is heavy with grief, but also overflowing with gratitude for the incredible woman who was my mother. She passed away recently, leaving behind a legacy of love, compassion, and unwavering dedication to others. Born in the vibrant city of Durban, South Africa, she embodied the spirit of ubuntu – the belief that we are all connected through our humanity. Her life was a testament to putting others first, and I want to celebrate her here, in this small corner of the internet.

Mom grew up in Durban, a place known for its beautiful beaches, diverse cultures, and unfortunately, deep social inequalities. From a young age, she felt called to make a difference. She pursued nursing, not for prestige or financial gain, but because she saw it as her way to heal the world, one patient at a time. She rose through the ranks to become a nurse matron in the oncology department at Addington Hospital, a government-run facility on Durban's bustling waterfront.

Working at a public hospital in South Africa meant facing constant challenges. Resources were often scarce, shifts were grueling, and the pay was minimal – barely enough to make ends meet. But Mom never complained. She sacrificed her own comforts to serve the poorest of the poor, many of whom came from the surrounding townships. These were people who couldn't afford private care, battling cancer with little support. Mom would stay late, hold hands through chemotherapy sessions, and offer words of comfort that went beyond medical advice. She treated every patient like family, listening to their stories, advocating for better treatment, and sometimes even dipping into her own pocket for essentials they needed.

I remember visiting her at work as a child. The oncology ward was a mix of hope and heartbreak, but Mom's presence brought light to it all. She'd introduce me to patients with a smile, saying, "This is my little one – one day, they'll change the world too." Her colleagues adored her; she mentored young nurses, organized fundraisers for equipment, and fought tirelessly against the system's flaws. Even in retirement, she volunteered at community clinics, because service wasn't a job to her – it was her purpose.

Mom's life reminds me that true wealth isn't measured in money, but in the lives we touch. She may have made "no money" as she often joked, but she was rich in love and respect. To the township families she helped, she was a hero. To me, she was everything.

Rest in peace, Mom. Your spirit lives on in Durban's sunrises, in the halls of Addington, and in my heart.