On January 22, 2022, my Dad died. My theme, “Letters to my Dad” is based on random thoughts about him and the aftermath of not having him around anymore.
I was thinking today about how so many friends and family called you an “amazing storyteller”.
You loved telling stories and I love writing stories…
Maybe I got the “story gene” from you? 🙂
I would like to think so.
In a quiet voice, you loved recounting your tales about when you used to visit your father in “the bush”, travelling alone on rickety boats and steamers all alone as young as nine years old.
Your encounters with all sorts of Guyanese wildlife captivated all those who were instead in all things nature.
Arapaima, caiman, jaguars, piranhas, snakes, wild pigs… you had so many stories to tell.
I was never a “nature” girl and as a kid, I would only listen with half an ear, except for the stories involving your dog Satan, your pet monkey and horribly big bugs.
To be honest, I only started appreciating your stories when I got you to join me in the library’s memoir writing class.
Memoir class protocol was for everyone to read their week’s writing during class but it happened more than once that your story monopolized class time.
You didn’t purposely want more attention but it often happened that way – others always had so many questions that you were more than happy to expand on.
And no one ever minded when their own writing was postponed to the following week.
Remember your ant story? They were all so enthralled by it that I still hear about how good it was from the memoir writing teacher.
I feel ashamed to say that it was only after you diagnosis that I truly listened intently with BOTH ears and truly realized the risks you took during your adventures.
How many times did I ask you, “How did your mother let you do that?” and your response would always be, “She never knew” followed by a big laugh.
Even you had to admit that you took some big risks and were very bold, never considering that you should have been scared.
Dad, as soon as things settle down, I’ll take all those jungle stories you shared during memoir class and type them up, “nice and neat” (as you would say) to appreciate them in my quiet time and on my own.
Loving you always,