I had the 'bestest' father in the whole wide world. Fondly called 'Dada' by his children, he was a fantastic father, husband and the main breadwinner, as my mother was a 'stay-at-home' mom; and NO, she was not a housewife because she did no household chores whatsoever. Dada would come home from work to do all that. I always looked forward to Dada coming home because that would be our special time together. We would all come out to welcome him home as soon as we heard the car pull up to the gate.

No matter where I was, once it was near time for Dada to come home from work, I would make sure that I am there to be the first one to greet him. It was commonly a competition between my brothers and me to see who could get to him first. And being the youngest, I made sure that I was constantly on the lookout for him.

My brothers and I had a profound love for our father. I would help him to get dinner ready for the family if only to hold the chicken leg while he joint it and to peel the onion and scallion while we talked of the day's events. Well, mostly I did the talking, telling him of my day's activity and bombarding him with questions that - come to think of it - I don't think he really knew the answers to.

kind and loving man

My father was a kind man and he truly loved his family. Nothing was too good or any adversity too great, he would readily sacrifice all for the sake of his loved ones. I was the youngest and his baby and he would regularly refer to me as such.

"Where is my baby?" he would ask. I knew my brothers and cousins hated his doting on me, and they would often laugh at and mock me whenever I was scolded for any wrong because "a big ass-tearing gal like you" would often start the scolding. They all knew I hated when he said that and I would go off to my room and cry; but still my father was a gentle soul even though he could get real cross at times.

I remembered him threatening to shoot a particular man who would often come to the home just to flirt with my mom. That man never did come back to the house after my father's threats and I was happy to see the back of him. I even teased the man while he was leaving. "A good fi yuh, and don't ever come back," I said, jeering at him. My mother wasn't unfaithful or anything of the sort, she was just a flirt.

I think my mom was a little jealous of the relationship that Dada and I shared. After we all had eaten dinner, Dada and I would snuggle up together in bed and talk about various things before I go off to sleep. I constantly had questions to ask about one thing or another. We would habitually listen to music together, with me paying special attention to the lyrics of the songs and asking him questions pertaining to the lines, which he would try to answer. He played with my hair and gently rubbed my head, which I liked and found to be very soothing, while we chatted.

lost his wife

"Dada, why did she go away?" I questioned while listening to the song Honey one evening. It was about a man who had lost his wife and telling of how much he misses her - 'One day while I was not at home and you were there all alone, the angels came, 'And Honey, I miss you and I long to be with you, if only I could'- that was when Dada explained to me that the song was about the death of the man's wife; I remember feeling such pity for the unfortunate man. Eventually, my mother would come in to break up our little téte--téte and march me off to my bed despite the fact that I would strongly protest. Religiously, that was our routine.

Dada always had gifts for the neighbours as well as families. Whenever we went to visit families they were always happy to see him because they knew they would be getting all kinds of goodies. The same goes for any school functions; teachers would often make very sure that my father knew about any school parties or events that were being held, as they knew that they would be getting the best contribution from him, both in cash and kind.

stern dada

I remember one day I did something wrong and lied to Dada about it. Everyone knew it was me as it could not have been anyone else, and Dada did not like the fact that I had lied to him; so he psyched me towards a confession.

"Bonaire (his nickname for me), if you tell me a lie I will spank you for it, but if you tell me the truth I will not." I remembered the day very well because after that little speech, I eventually confessed to the wrong that I did. I got two slaps in the palm of my hand for that deceit, and I never ever did lie to my father again. I always told him the truth no matter the consequences, and true to his word, he would listen to my story and counselled me whenever I did anything wrong, provided that I told him the truth. I was a cantankerous child and even then I would try to validate my action by arguing my way. However, I would eventually give in to the voice of reason and wisdom. Dada knew exactly how to deal with me; he understood me well.

I will forever love my Dada, he was the 'BESTEST' father in the whole world.

- Bonita

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