My father

Although he is a vivid memory, R.I.P. papa, I knew he loved me, I remember my father tall dark with curly hair. He was very funny and I was able to wrap him around my little finger. My father use to take me to school most days, and my early memories saw us walking to school. I also remember him riding me home on his bicycle. Such fond memories, my father had a shop in my hometown St Thomas Jamaica.  I use to help him wrap the packets of flour and rice. The best part was eating all the sweets.  My father gave me the first love for drawing and although I have not yet achieve the ambition of being able to draw. He planted the seed in my mind.  I will do this one day. Well my father lived with his “mistress and I really loved her.  Mama G they called her.  She had an older son. He was 19 years old .  That was the first abuse when I was five. He called it our little game but it was painful. It stopped immediately when mama g came home early one day and punched him in his face.  I never saw him again.. My father dealt with him.  In case you wandering he never died.   It’s only in adulthood that I realised my father dealt with him good and proper.  From that moment my father never left my side.  Sadly to say my father was the only man in my life who ever tried to protect me.   My father…..

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