In the 1980s, before the internet, I embarked on a journey to explore our family’s lineage. My quest started with conversations with family members, delving into their personal stories and memories of their youth. During a visit to my husband’s Aunt Jessie, a spirited septuagenarian at the time, she was pleased to discuss her memories and retrieved an ancient, dust—and cobweb-laden photo album from storage. It was evident that this album had not seen the light of day for decades.

Nestled on her bright orange vinyl sofa, which was a relic in its own right, Jessie balanced a lit cigarette between her fingers. With her other hand, she flipped through the black cardboard pages of the album. “Ooh, look at that. That’s me, mother, Phoebe before she was married,” she said in her broad Liverpudlian accent, her eyes brightening as they fell upon a sepia-toned photograph weathered by time. She snuffed out her cigarette and dislodged the photograph from its hinges to hand it to me.

For several moments, I stared at the young woman sitting on a wooden bench, perhaps in a studio, dressed in a long, ruffled dress with a fitted bodice, high neckline, and pendant around her neck. Her introspective expression, with one hand placed gently against her cheek, gazing slightly away from the camera, gave her a sense of thoughtfulness or daydreaming.

While I was absorbed in her mother’s portrait, Jessie’s voice pierced the silence once more. “I wonder who this is?” I gently placed Phoebe’s photograph down as I grasped the other image.

I  flipped the photograph over in my hands. The back had yellowed with age and bore a neatly handwritten inscription in faded ink. Leaning closer, Jessie deciphered the elegant, looping cursive letters: “Anna Barber. A portrait of strength and elegance.”

“I think that may be me, granny, Phoebe’s mother,” Jessie said.

Anna’s gaze instantly captured my attention. She carried an air of serene authority. Her kind eyes held a calmness that suggested wisdom and experience forged over years of quiet resilience. Yet there’s a hint of a rebellious spirit in the set of her mouth and the steadfastness of her stare.

At that moment, an unspoken connection passed between Anna and me. I needed to dive deeper, to discover the layers of her life, the narratives that shaped her dignified demeanour. There was an untold story behind those eyes, and I found myself eager, no—compelled, to unravel it.

And so began my journey into the Barber family’s ancestry. The early years were marked by countless weekends spent in the depths of the Latter-Day Saints’ archives in Sydney, the keepers of meticulously catalogued English parish records on microfilm at that time. It was an uphill quest, but not without its rewards. I pieced together fragments of history and discovered that Anna Barber was born in 1847, the daughter of Charles and Penelope Barber, in the quaint village of Peasenhall in Suffolk, England.

I contacted Reverend Jack Thickitt in Peasenhall, requesting that he sift through his parish records from around that period to uncover additional details. Several months later, his letter arrived, bringing a wave of excitement. He had unearthed more information about the Barber family, including Anna’s siblings, grandparents, uncles, and aunts. With this new information in hand, I then wrote to the Suffolk Record Office.

A mental image of Anna’s life took shape. She was one of five siblings: Mary, George, Joseph, and Harriet, the latter tragically passing away at the tender age of eight. Her father, Charles, was known in the village as the shoemaker. Her mother, Penelope, the blacksmith’s daughter, came from the neighbouring village of Dennington.

In 1989, my family and I made a pilgrimage to England, setting our sights on Peasenhall. Each day was dedicated to exploring every nook and cranny of the village, engaging with its oldest inhabitants in hopes of gleaning insights, and combing through the local cemetery for any headstones bearing the Barber surname. Although this expedition yielded some discoveries, it offered me a priceless opportunity to tread the same paths Anna and her family once did.

The trip was more than just a search for tangible evidence; it was an immersion into the world that shaped her. As we wandered through the winding lanes and fields of Peasenhall, I could almost feel her presence, imagining her life and the lives of her family members within this picturesque setting. This trip allowed me to connect with her on a deeper level and to appreciate the everyday sights, smells and sounds that would have been familiar to her. It was a profound experience, reinforcing my bond with Anna and fuelling my determination to uncover more about her life and legacy.

Despite my relentless efforts, I had reached the end of the road in my quest to uncover more about her. Although she was never far from my thoughts, her story remained shrouded in mystery for the next three decades. Her photograph, prominently displayed on my wall unit, constantly reminded me of the enigma she was. Often, I found myself gazing at her image, transported into a world of speculation and imagination. Her presence in my home was a silent yet powerful force, urging me to keep her memory alive.

Leap ahead to March 2020, when the world was entangled in a web of fear and uncertainty as the coronavirus pandemic imposed global lockdowns. Cut off from the outside world, we were compelled to seek refuge within the confines of our homes. Day after day, the news delivered grim reports of the toll this virus was taking on lives across the globe. Eager to distance myself from the chaos, I turned my attention to the comforting embrace of the past and invested in a subscription to Ancestry.com.

This decision opened up a new chapter in my quest to uncover the past. With the world at a standstill and time on my hands, I delved into the digital archives, navigating through records and documents with a renewed sense of purpose. While challenging, the isolation of the lockdown provided me with an unexpected opportunity to find the missing pieces of the Barber’s life that had eluded me for so long.

The journey took on a new dimension in the comfort of my study, surrounded by notes and photographs. As I accumulated records on my computer and meticulously pieced them together, a more detailed portrait took shape. I unearthed further details about Anna and a wealth of information regarding her extended family.

The Barber family wasn’t a household name celebrated in the annals of history for groundbreaking achievements. Nor did they revolutionise society with some invention or alter the course of history through their actions.

To the world, they are just another name from the past. But for me, they are a beacon of inspiration, a reminder that true strength isn’t always measured by public recognition or grandiose achievements. Their strength was in their perseverance, the way they navigated the tragedies of life, facing each challenge with dignity and a quiet resolve.

Through my writing, I embarked on a mission to immortalise their spirit, to ensure that the essence of the family’s legacy is not mere certificates and scraps of paper but living, breathing inspirations that span across generations.