We observe the passing of another outstanding woman, Jessie Brash, on Wednesday April 24. The funeral service took place on April 25 at the St Theresa's Roman Catholic Church in Woodbrook where Jessie had been the organist for thirty years, never accepting any payment for a talent she felt she owed to her God.
Born Jessie Mable Sheppard on November 22, 1909, the first of Charles and Elsie Sheppard's twelve children, she married Bernard "Man" Brash in 1936, a union which produced four children, Bernard, Charles, Maurice and Rosalind, 11 grandchildren and 12 great grandchildren.
When her husband died in 1970, leaving no estate, Jessie acquired a small school from Marion De Montbrun at the corner of Roberts and Alfredo Streets in Woodbrook, and determinedly turned St Anthony's Private School into a haven for young children on whom she lavished love while giving them an adventure into learning, singing and an awareness of God.
But it was Jessie's passion for music which was overriding. With her father she shared a love for music before her feet could barely reach the pedals. He even had her play the piano for a silent movie in a neighbourhood cinema when his friend, the cinema owner, found himself minus a pianist one evening.
My memory of this very upright woman was seated at the piano accompanying the dancers of Thora Dumbell's dance school with heart and soul. And this she did for more than 30 years. Those were Jessie's happiest years and we are told "Thora's friendship was very dear to her, as was her friendship with Elsie Pereira and Beatrice Tibbits with whom she spent many years playing beautiful music, winning Music Festival awards and driving her late husband who had no ear for music, round the bend."
In 1973, the indomitable woman purchased No 38 O'Connor Street on the strength of her good name alone. A time when your good name was worth something. The house became a haven for many, from her children for whom she was a healing force, to her sister, Ida. and many whom she helped by holding charity events at the Woodbrook house.
Her mother, Elsie, in a short appreciation of her children, once compared Jessie to a diamond. Jessie's children and friends felt the comparison was only valid in the worth of the stone, but not as a cold, hard and showy jewel, for Jessie was the essence of warmth, gentleness and genuine, unpretentious beauty. Hazel Ward-Redman once described her as the prettiest lady she ever saw. But said eulogist, Bernard Tappin "her beauty lay in the gentleness of her voice and in the generosity she showed everyone for none entered her home without being invited to share a meal even when she didn't know if there was anything in the kitchen to eat."
Jessie's faith in God was so strong that nothing phased her and up to the day before she was admitted to the nursing home, where she died peacefully, answered the question "How you going?" with the words "I'm going but ah eh gone yet!"
Jessie had begun a short semi-autobiography called "An office affair" which she eventually dictated to her close friend Ann Pouchet after diabetes had claimed her eyesight.
Jessie smiled at the piano, smiled when telling the only joke she could remember about the king who was castrated, smiled when organising some little concert for someone in need, and smilled when singing the "ole lady walk a mile and a half" calypso as she tried to negotiate the walker with the help of Josephine, Anne Marie and Angela.