More Tales of Treachery

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The last mental note of treachery was just one more to be added to the string of misery and of things happening to me in those days. But, I still maintained the hope that my mother wound let me stay a couple of days with her to make up for her abandoning me. By then I was also considering the last times I’d visited Colon which was my visit on Fifth of November the year before.

But the funeral of my grandfater had made me remember the time when someone had came to notify my paternal grandmother that our Grandaunt had passed. I think that I must have been about thirteen going on fourteen years of age and it had been about 1948 and that had ben the first time that we as kids had been at a funera. I remembered how disappointed I was at the death of my maternal Grand Aunt Mrs Ethel Francis passing, and I had been blaming her for daring to die and not getting well in Panama at that time. I had spent the entire day sad and angry during her funeral at the Corozal Silver Cemetery.

My memories of my Grand Aunt, which was my mother’s Aunt, and my maternal grandmoter’s sister, was a vivid reminders of how reagile we all were. But then we lived right across the street from her at that time she continued to live in one of the board buildings in Calidonia. We did vist her and I knew that She did visit Colon frequently, however, and maintained contact with folks on the Atlantic side.

Her passing made me remember how I always admired her small but beautifully decorated room furnished with marvelous wicker furniture, which the Spanish people called mimbre. She always kept her one-room scrupulously clean and as tastefully furnished as she could within her means but I never did meet Mr. Francis.

But then she always kept a lovely porcelain pitcher resting in its matching bowl as a hint of times past when folks used to use these basins to wash up after coming home from the street. And then there was that unmistakable and aromatic presence of a boxes of perfumed talcum powders always sitting on top the furniture with the big mirrow on the mahogany chest of drawers.

While the adversities of times past came and then vanished I realized how I was venturing into a Colon that was really strange to me, a boy entering into his final years of adolecence. I figured that I would be alone for some time, without my mother or my sister or any of my aunts going around opening doors for me in the city.

I suddenly remembered that i had also been to my maternal grandfather, Seymour Green, funeral has he too had recently passed, and I had blamed his daughters, my aunts, for not taking better care of him, since he had been ill for some time. All of my mother’s younger sisters, in fact, were like mother’s to me being that they had been the first souls I had remembered seeing upon coming to my senses long after my birth. So I knew them better than what they imagined, because after my grandfather’s funeral I had been observing them very closely before going back to Panama.

I secretly had cause yo blame them for not taking better care of my grandfather. None the less none of them had approached me to even discuss what had occurred to Dad, my grandfather, whom I loved dearly. They all acted as if he had never been a part of their lives. In fact, when I arrived for the funeral, I had stayed out of the chapel where the service was held, so that I would not have to enter to view his body lying in a casket. I just couldn’t handle the thought of looking at his face in death, the same face that had showed me so much love.

I had preferred staying on the fringes of that place  Mount Hope since I could not accept that he was gone forever. It was my younger sister Aminta who afterwords informed me that grandfather had died in the bed of another woman who was not our grandmother. I overheard my aunts saying that the woman in question had to go notify my Grandma Marcela and her daughters that grandfather had died. Aminta, knowing my feelings for my grandfather, had taken pity on me and came to give me those details that she thought I needed to know.  Then there I was again, been angry and depressed at another funeral of one of my loved ones with whom I had grown with.

This story continues.

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