There is an
ineffable emotion that compels me to write about this as if closure can be achieved,
sort of making up for not being present at the occasion to celebrate her life. I
loved my aunt and she loved me and did more for me than any other. My father
had one brother and one sister. The brother, my uncle John had migrated to the
UK when I was a toddler; I have no knowledge of him as he never returned after
he left Anguilla. My aunt Marie Teresa migrated to the US but made infrequent
trips back to Anguilla. We grew to dote
on each other she saw herself in me and I kept in regular contact. Time permitting; we
visited when my travels took me to the US state where she resided. She had 2
sons one predeceased her; she later resided with the other. As her
circumstances, independence and self reliance, changed I experienced difficulty
ascertaining her whereabouts. Her son, my cousin is not one to return calls or
make contact though we know each other well. In 2012 I enlisted the assistance
of my colleague in Houston and we located her in an assisted living community.
I was in town for two days we chatted and joked she was not ill, just old she told me. Her
memory was sharp and her wit quick but her knees was weak. At the time I did
not even think that at 95 it was likely our last visit; perhaps because it was
so joyous an occasion. Two years later she would have been 97. I am not sad or
weepy just perplexed that my cousin didn’t let me know. He had my contact
information all this time. Out of the clearest blue sky my cousin's son whatsapp message me this pass week, a first and I asked about her then he told me. R.I.P Tantan.
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