Who was Cynthia Valerie Le Roux?

A story of guilt and tragedy, but most of all a love story.

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This was my Mother's Eulogy which I found in my computer archives and thought it best to save it in a public way for my family to access. Cynthia Valerie Le Roux - Born - 06th September 1938 and passed 13 September 2007.

I remember thinking that I had better not talk for very long, as my mom promised to stand up and reprimand me if I was to go on for ever. Well, here goes …        

?She was born on 9 September 1938 into the Dennis family, daughter to ............ a mother and father who believed in “hou die blink kant bo”, whereas her philosophy was rather to call a spade a spade and to clear the stones from under the mattress so you can sleep properly at night. Even this morning auntie Sally said she did not believe in hiding things away.

Cynthia and her sister Sheila were born into a family who they thought did not want them... and why? It’s probably because for many reasons they were born into the sins of the father and the mother, so to speak. All the details are unnecessary, but the hardest thing for young Cynthia and Sheila to bear was that they were both given away at birth by parents who could not face the circumstances of their birth. The question of why they were discarded, dogged her and her sister for throughout their lives.

Many years later they uncovered the truth behind a gem of a family secret of the “real ruby” and the “real pearl”, a story of lies and deceit which lay buried “daar onder waar die blink kant wat bo le, nie gehou het nie”. I will not go into the details of this story. But what I will tell you is that if there was tragedy then there was love and there is a love story in her life, it’s the story of sisterly love and love for family.

Last week when my mom was lying on her death bed, my aunt pulled out an old tattered and torn note book. It was about 60 yrs old. It held the date of when they were brought together, who brought them together and the date from which in Auntie Sally’s words, from which they would never be apart.

Sally was the dark one and ouma the light one “met die groen oe”, the so called preferred one in our prejudiced multi-colored communities, but Sally fought for her sister, it was last week when auntie Sally recalled how she “donnered the whities on the veldt and how my poor ouma used to “tjank vir alles” before her big sister came to her rescue.

Through the tragedy of their being given away at birth was the love story of being brought together and staying together through life, through the tragedy of doomed relationships their love remained, and it is their love for each other that shone bright to conquer their feelings of rejection. It is this love that serves as an example to us their children.

?As a son, I must also say that my mom was not a “moffie” who only “tjanked vir alles”, all the time throughout her life. She was a well known activist, a political activist in the truest sense of the word, because as we all know the places where you experience the most politics is in the home, and in the church.

?She was loved by many sisters and aunties so to speak, and she was there for them. When a man stood up against his wife she was there, when a woman felt despair and pushed down in her relationship my mother would show them how to stand up in a strong calm way to assert their authority, often to the dismay of many a husband, and when the pastor or elders in the church dictated to the nameless faceless benches she would stand up and be heard, to the extent that through her mouth, we were kicked out of our previous home church which actually started in our home, and had to find a new home church which became Grassy Park Baptist. Ja some would say, “sy wassie op haar bek gevalie”.

?Although she always wanted us to go to church, she taught us that where you go to find God is not in the church, its in the quiet places inside yourself, and where others see God is not at church once a week but through your Godly deeds, yes pastor, …? she put the love of god in us, not just the fear of god.

?Lastly, what I need you to know is that my mom taught us how to love... And that is to love with your whole heart. Not that you love easily but that you love deeply and when you give your heart to your family or your friends you care deeply, sometimes so deeply that you leave yourself vulnerable to be hurt. But therein lays a Shakespearean truth that it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

?So bon voyage, on that final beautiful journey, goodnight my ouma, we will all hear you singing and see you dancing again, and your wishes will come true, you looked beautiful when you passed. Goodnight mom, we will be OK and we wish you a good trip.