Coming in from the cold

I had recently written about my experiences with the cold in Canada. I thought that was something of the past, but here am I writing in the cold. Not literally because I am indoors. I am told that this is the best weather Toronto has had for a few weeks. Over the past week temperatures ranged between -1 and 7 degrees. Good for them; not for me but admittedly it could have been worst. I was so annoyed yesterday when I saw a man in slippers and short sleeves. Mr Show Off I called him. There was I with a sweater and countless pieces underneath. It was as if he was making fun of me. The sun fortunately, was out but there was a slight breeze. Really not my type of weather.

The past two weeks were difficult for me. I received news of the death of my sister Marcelle on 2nd March, at about 6.30 a.m. The news ruined my day. I had to abandon for a few days a paper I was to present at the International Garifuna Conference while I began to make plans to go to Canada to attend the funeral. Not only to attend but to do the Eulogy. There were a number of things that had to be sorted out. The funeral was scheduled for Saturday, March 18 which meant I had to get out by Tuesday, March 14. I was, however, in the midst of all of this, able to complete the paper that was to form the basis of my presentation scheduled for March 10. On that same day I was also able to make a short presentation to a group of visiting students from Martinique. Saturday I was to speak at a Heroes Day Rally in Owia but had to skip that one. Unfortunately, for Owia is one of my favourite spots.

Caught my flight on Tuesday, March 14, unprepared, of course, for the weather. My daughter, Tanya, who had flown from Barbados to Vancouver 10 days before by Air Canada told me to avoid at any cost ‘Economy Class’ because my long legs could not be easily accommodated. So, ‘I had to bite the bullet’. At least there was room for my legs and the service was good, but the toilets were something else. I had to bend my head and crawl in. I worried for a two-hundred-pound lady that followed me. Fortunately, my brother who picked me up had me all bundled up in what was supposed to be warm clothing. I avoided being outdoors for any length of time for the next few days while I prepared for the funeral. The last time I saw my sister was around this same time in 2019. In fact, I was in Toronto then on National Heroes Day 2019. I avoided looking at her body at the period of Viewing, because I wanted to remember her as I always knew her.

I was listed as an honorary Pall bearer which I abandoned when we were going to the burial site, and I was greeted by snowflakes. On arrival the snowflakes had gone away. The distance to the burial spot was about forty yards from the road, so I was able to make it, avoiding most of the mud that was left. The burial ceremony was short, thankfully. In fact, the sermon by Pastor, Dr Sabrina Jordan-D’ Rozario at the Wesley Chapel Free Methodist Church at Scarboro, a short distance from where my sister had lived was short, about fifteen minutes. I was told that the Pastor’s sermons were usually fifteen minutes. She was pleasant and good humoured and commanded the attention of the congregation. It went smoothly, thanks largely to the work of the event coordinator, our cousin Raquel. I was able both at the Visitation and at the funeral service to meet a number of friends I had not seen for some time.

The occasion was for me a sad one because I was very close to my sister. In fact, my brother Ethelbert/aka Bert and I had kept in close contact with Marcelle over the years, first by the magicJack and then by WhatsApp. People who knew her spoke highly of her and sang her praises. Being there to celebrate her life was what mattered. I could always come in from the Cold.

Dr Adrian Fraser is a social commentator and historian