By Bertrand Ramcharan
They had traversed the Atlantic half a century earlier, from Guyana to London, in pursuit of higher education. They had both obtained doctorates from British universities, and their only son had also received a doctorate in Switzerland. They had been a happy family, and she was the inspiration: beautiful in mind and body, beautiful in honour, and gracious in personality. Such a lovely person.
And now, half a century later, she had been called to heaven. And he was again on the Atlantic, but this time alone. And he thought of her; much. What a gem of a person she had been. She had been his strength, his anchor, his solace.
They had achieved much together. He had gained world recognition as an international leader and diplomat, a scholar. She had pursued a career she loved and then gave it up to be at his side when he was called upon to perform high international functions. She missed the job she had given up. But she was happy to be at his side and she glowed in the milieu. She had a simple elegance. And he was always so proud of her. Then she fell ill. And he gave it all up to be at her side. He cared for her. He accompanied her throughout a devastating illness. He was always at her side, hugging her, letting her know that he was there, always. She undoubtedly knew it, felt it.