Owen Blake died on the 15th of October 2004 in High Wycombe. If you should ask me which was the saddest moment of my life up to this time, I would certainly say it was on the 1st October, when my daughter called me from England to say that my cousin Owen Blake was very ill and had only two days to live. I felt as if the four walls around me had just closed in on me and crushed every bone in my body. {{more}}

Owen and I grew up together in Caratal Village, Georgetown. We were inseparable. Owen was someone in whom you could put your trust in every way. He loved to help people who were in trouble.

We both worked at Mt Bentinck Factory as young men, for a period of eight years, then emigrated to England in 1959; that is when we went our separate ways. Owen went to High Wycombe and I to Luton. However, the ties were never broken. He was never a sportsman and whenever I tried to encourage him to play cricket, his answer was, “Me, that ball, those hit too hard.” The same with weight lifting. That was not his thing. What he loved most of all was to spend his time under the bonnet of a motor car. That was his hobby. As the days go by, I can see his smiling face before me, and our boyhood memories are all that I have to cherish.

Before he left for England the last time, he called me from the airport and said that he was sorry we did not spend more time together whilst he was here but that he would be back in December. Unfortunately, his life’s journey ended before we could keep that date.

Owen, you will be sadly missed by everyone. May you Rest in Peace, O JOE.