James Bishop

Life at times seems like it shall never end, then reality shatters our dreams, because that is what life is, reality, not a dream. Dad, because this man who is no more with us was my dad, from 1965 until his death. Mr. Bishop was an original son of Barbados, but somehow, he was able to live above that subservient attitude that has held back so many of the beautiful people of this island. From the day l knew this very complex man, he always worked for what he wanted, in the severe winters of the sixties in the UK he never shirked his responsibility of providing food and shelter for all of us. James did what many never did, he lived his life to the full, was crazy about his children, especially his daughter my dear sister Jean, who carries his mother's name, Adrian my brother, what can one say, we boy's are meant to belong to our mother's but you know your father loved you. However, most boys ask their mother five times before they ask their father once, it's a man thing, which is why you have made a success of your life so far my young brother, ever more than l have done, that strength of character was your father's gift to you, so be dignified in the remembrance of your dad. No human being is perfect, but what we as African descendants never do is to speak ill of the departed, only GOD knows what we as a people have endured, yet we continue to stand, we continue to live until we are no more. Thank you, James, for caring for me as a child, your kindness overpowered your moments of weakness, and l have long understood it was not always easy for you. I hope you found the strength to forgive my mother for her shortcomings and the hurt you caused each other. I know my father would approve of me sharing my love with you both, after all in Africa we learnt one of many important facts, "It takes a village to raise a child." Thank you for helping to raise me, May peace be your reward, farewell dad, travel safely. Love smithy, your nickname for me.