Each week we post an article or paper submitted by a member or "silent participant" of Guyana Caribbean Network. The featured article runs from Monday to Sunday each week. To submit an article for feature of the week contact us at admin@guyanacaribbeannetwork.com This week's feature is brought to you by "Litchfieldgirl".

Gone but not forgotten
by "Litchfieldgirl"

I learned a lot from my Dad and I still am. When I was a little girl and we used to call a quarter a Bob. We played this game. His nickname for me was Bookie. I would say Dad can I have a Bob and he would put his hands in his pocket and pull them out in total dismay and say, aww Bookie, Bob died; only his children are let. Then he would give me 10 cents or 5 cents and I would laugh and it was our little game.

It still hurts when I think about when he died. He was a "ladies man". I have a sister that is just two months younger than me. He was married when he dated my mother and she later found out and they stopped seeing each other but he never stopped seeing me. He later started living with someone but was still pursuing my mother. The woman he was living with found out and was not too happy. Her unhappiness showed in her behavior to me and my other two sisters. While living with her, he started feeling ill a lot. He was placed in the hospital so many times I lost count. I still remember the last time I saw him, how shocked I was that he appeared so weak. He was weak physically but not mentally. Lying in that hospital bed, he wanted to play that stupid Bob game. I had always been close to my Dad and so this was very difficult to face. I wanted to be strong but the tears just wouldn't stop but he tried so valiantly to cheer me up but he was the sick one. As I was leaving his room, my aunt came in and she told me to kiss my Dad and tell him that I love him. I had forgotten to do. I will always be grateful for her tell me to do so because 2 days later he passed away.

No one knows why the woman he was living with took him out of the hospital when no one was there. She did not have transportation for him and he could barely walk. She transferred him to New Amsterdam Hospital but I guess from the fatigue, he was barely conscious when they got there and then he died. I passed by the hospital that he was taken from on my way home from Rosignol Secondary School and when I stopped, they said he was gone. I thought he was better. I felt better. I didn't know that he had already passed away. I got off of the minibus in Litchfield and was going to go home then head to my Dad's house to see how he is doing. When I got home, I knew something was wrong. My Mom said she heard that my Dad had died but was not sure. We walked to 42 Village that evening but as soon as I came close to my Grandmother's house, I knew. I saw the windows open, all the blinds off, heard the wailing. Almost saw my Dad waving goodbye as he walked out of my life. I didn't cry, couldn't cry. On the day of his funeral, everyone cried, I could not cry. As small as I was, I sat in a chair by his coffin, fanning the flies that loitered and watched as everyone messed up his tie and know how neat he liked to be, I fixed it back in place. Part of me thought he was going to jump out and it was all just a big bad dream. It wasn't. I didn't cry for months until one day I reached in my pocket and all I found was Bob's children. I wish I could play that game with my daughter but she won't understand it.

I wish he was around now though because his family is in desperate need of his guidance. I wish I could lay my head on his shoulders one more time while I cry and tell him how much I miss him. When I was pregnant with my daughter I had a dream that he fed me chicken from his finger nails. I was terrified that something would happen to her but my mother-in-law said that it was actually a sign of him protecting me. I should have known because he always was my protector. My Daddy was tall handsome, strong, funny, vain, neat, clean, very clean and loved. When I go home and I spend time with my two remaining aunts I love to hear the stories they tell about him. He will never get to hold my daughter. He didn't walk me down the aisle but in my heart, I know that he is watching over me. All I can say is Dad, Bob's children are the only ones left but that means that his legacy lives on.