by Rick Lowe

Mr. Thompson was the husband of, my kindred spirit and mentor in The Nassau Institute, Mrs. Joan Thompson and from the first time I met him he had an amazing ability to make one feel comfortable.

Born in Hope Town, Abaco in 1921 Mr. Thompson in his quiet way, grew into one of The Bahamas most successful entrepreneurs. He served in the British Navy during World War II, graduated from The University of Toronto and returned home to a career in real estate.

Someone worth emulating in many ways to be sure.

Mr. Thompson died at home with his family on Tuesday, October 2, 2012 and was memorialised on Sunday, October 14, 2012 in the gardens at his home, Seeker's End.

Click here to download a pdf of the memorial service programme for Mr. Thompson that closes with an excerpt from the Prologue to his second novel, The Long Day Wanes…

"Alone on his hilltop the old man looks across the pale blue waters of the Sea of Abaco, shimmering with golden light in the afternoon sun. Nearby, the cays are clearly defined; bold brush strokes of green palms and white beaches. Known to him for a lifetime. With names like Cooper Jack, Lubbers Quarters and Tavern Cay, they seem like old friends.

"Further along to the south and west the misty outline of Great Abaco Island marks where horizon and sky become one. To the east, waves surge on the reef, ending their long voyage across the Atlantic; the eternal murmur of sea meeting land as much a part of the old man as breathing. Far above in the deep blue sky several frigate birds float in slow circles. As he looks, one of these starts a steep downward spiral toward the sea. Below, white sails, as two dinghies, seemingly painted on the sea's surface, make an unhurried voyage.

"Settling more comfortably in his rocking chair and closing his eyes, he thinks, "Where did I fit into this seascape? What awesome convergences of time and space placed me on this island at this moment in eternity?" Throughout his life he had been reaching out for some ultimate reality, groping for some elusive truth, seeking a clear cut path through the tangled thickets of existence.

"When he was younger it seemed he had come close to a breakthrough…

"It never happened and now, to his amazement, he is in his ninth decade, with a rapidly diminishing life span. Perhaps, the enlightenment he glimpsed was a mirage. Or perhaps he thought, "it is only attainable with age: a distillation of experience; maybe from the plateau of old age I can observe the panorama of my life and see my younger self, as if I were another person, apart from myself but linked to myself."

"If this is so, he thought, there is still time to record some defining events, to select from eight decades of living those episodes which might give some meaning to life; if only in the mind of a grandchild.

"There is not time for thick tomes of detail; instead, a slim volume, before "the bird flies from the lighted room into the darkness from whence it came."

Mr. Thompson loved being with his family and at Big Hill on Hope Town and always spoke of nature's bounty up there. I hope he has found an equally beautiful spot where ever he might be.

Rest in Peace Mr. Thompson. You will be missed by your family and friends.