We are not long past the time each year when we meet at school to celebrate Patronal Festival. That is when we reflect on those who have completed their earthly journey and have gone to their rest. You have now transitioned to that realm which will be ours in the fulness of time. The things we say and do and think in our earthly journey leave indelible imprints at our transitioning. They comprise the only meaningful canon of work that lives on after us.
Anything one says in your praise is but a paltry addendum, as your canon is sufficient to itself; it speaks more eloquently than well intentioned elucidation or addition. Within its compass, it shows what our best efforts can achieve. I think this is what you would have us know, so that we can hone our efforts before our journey is over, since no revisions or enhancements are possible afterwards. Rest well, my dear friend; we were blessed by your journey.
Carl Blackwood, BSc, PhD
An Open Letter —November 19, 2023
Winty,
I am having difficulty writing to and about you my brother, a difficulty made worse by not being there with you at your passing. It’s more than I had bargained for: it’s not knowing your pain at the end—the wish to have known what was on your mind, and to have shared my own thoughts with you. Just as we did in life. That was the way we lived as friends—passionate to a fault, opinionated and strong willed, but not forgetting our love for each other as brothers.
I am among the least of those who will miss you most, my brother. There are your patients who are now without the talents of a devoted physician and healer; your university students and colleagues will surely miss your advice and counsel; the Fortis nation has lost a stalwart, and Jamaica one of its brightest sons; but your family, above everything and everyone, will feel your absence most acutely. I grieve for you, my dear friend, but cannot imagine their own grief.
Carl