Dear Winston

The day is coming when I will be forced to recognise the fact that you are not coming back this time; you are not going to mount the stairs at Russell’s for the Saturday Lime; you will not sit at my table to help solve the problems of our world – called Antigua; your hearty laugh and that grin which forgave all, just not coming back this time.

Our days as young people in Ovals, your shocking red head and mischievous grin, and the fact at seven that you liked girls, made you the perfect companion for two teenage girls of which I was one – we called you our mascot.  I had forgotten, and one day at Russell’s asked why you were with us so much. You looked at me and loudly said, “I was looking out for you all while you talked to boys!’  Who will look out for the girls now, since you are not coming back?  Most people do not understand why you made sure you closed down Russell’s each Friday Reggae night, but I just loved the way you made sure you looked after Russell’s girls.

You and I had a bond as Privy Council survivors, and you bore the arms for me, because without you and the OBSERVER taking my part, I doubt that I could have survived for so long.  I have resisted being sad, especially when your son told me that I should be happy for you, because you had danced all night and away. As you and I would say at Russell’s – ‘What a way to go!’

I think we have shared all the good things I have had to say about you and our world called ‘Antigua’ and as I know where your heart dwelled, I wish your family the rest of their years full of wonderful memories of you, even as you could never stop talking about them, and making plans for their future.