Last of the Panamanians

December 10, 2015

I suppose that most people would say that 80 years represent a fairly good innings; well, this week I do not. I do not intend to change my mind soon either, because it seems to me that you should always do better than you parents. Doing better includes living longer, and I regret to say that the trend, in my family , seems to be moving in the wrong direction.

About 48 years ago I visited my family home, for the first time, in Coolshade, Tranquility District, Portland Jamaica. My great grandmother is buried there. She was given 107 years. Her children, with the exception of Anastacia, the baby, each enjoyed similar numbers. Evelyn, my grandmother, lived to 101.

Things have changed, and I do not like it. Within the space of 3 years all of my Grandmother's children have died. My mother Olive was the first to go; at 89. Her baby brother Roy left three weeks later, at around 83. Joyce 89 and Lowena, a year Both in their mid-eighties, two weeks apart. And now, two weeks ago, Natalie, 87; the last of the Panamanians.

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