Friday, April 19, 2024
Aunt Pansy, you fell short by 3.5 years of my projection of you attaining your dad’s age and progressing to becoming a Centurian. However, you have achieved the honor of earning a longer life than your siblings who have predeceased you. What a notable achievement. Although it is difficult and painful for any human being to accept the loss of an immediate family member, especially a beloved mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, our earthly existence is a defined one that rests, as some would say, solely in the hands of the Creator.
I was fortunate to have known Aunt Pansy, as they say in Guyana, from a small boy. I remember spending one of my primary school holidays with her in Mahicony as a teenager and staying briefly with her in Georgetown between 1965 and 1969 during my initial attendance at the University of Guyana. I remember she would wait until I returned from my classes and sit with me at the dinner table until I finished my supper, sometimes later than 10 pm. In later years, following the death of my dad, her brother, we kept in touch occasionally.
Recently, I was again fortunate to sit and converse with Aunt Pansy twice before her passing. On both occasions, she asked me to look at her photo albums. I quickly reviewed three of her albums on the first occasion and reviewed a couple of my photos with her, which I saw along with those of other family members. Although I remember being present at the home of my paternal grandfather in New Amsterdam, Berbice, shortly following his passing, it was the first time I saw my photo in the presence of my aunts and some cousins around the coffin of my grandfather. I left, letting her know I would review the rest of the albums when I visited again.
My last conversation with Aunt Pansy was a poignant reminder of life's unpredictability. She urged me to look through her photo albums, a task I regretfully postponed. I never anticipated that it would be our final interaction. This experience has taught me the value of seizing every moment, of not delaying meaningful experiences. It's a lesson I've learned from my visits with Aunt Pansy and from the loss of my wife and a dear friend. Procrastination can lead to missing out on important moments in life, a realization that haunts me.
Aunt Pansy, your warmth and receptiveness to me and my sisters Elsa and Yvonne have been a constant source of comfort and strength. As you continue your spiritual journey, I am confident you will be a guiding light, watching over and guiding those you leave behind.
Your Nephew
Vishnu Diyaljee
