My Father

 

My father was respected by many because he was a very strict man.  My father worked for a Radio Station called Radio Fusion, which was a good job.  He was a good provider and a good father. I always remember him bringing food home when he came from work. 

My father was a tall, slim man who came from a wealthy family but despite the family’s wealth, we lived in poverty. My father always dressed in a suit, so he was always addressed as Mr. Cummings.  People who knew him well were aware of his family lifestyle, all strict and to the point.   

Life in Trinidad could be wonderful but on the other hand could be financially hard.  Such as having to deal with the economy.  Prices of various items are so expensive, which made it hard for our family.  As a child I remembered my mother working odd jobs to make ends meet to provide for our family.  Having both my parents to support the household was a great help to our family.   We used cold pot iron, which was very popular in Trinidad.  It is an iron that you make hot on a stove to iron clothes.  Kerosene lamps were also popular when I was growing up. 

When my father took sick, I was responsible for helping him with many personal tasks.  I lived with my father after he became sick. I was glad that I was there to help him.  My mom, who was living in America, was called home from New York when he became very sick.  My father died.  I loved my father but there was nothing I could do to help him at the time.  God took him to a better place.  He died from asthma.    No one knows what a person goes through unless that person discusses it, but the Lord has a way of working things out.  My mother brought me to America after the death of my father.  Maybe if he had come to America, he might have had better medical treatment, but my father did not really want to travel to America.   I believe, being there for my father when he was sick was a way that God was showing me that when you honor your parents, God will always honor you.  I was glad to be able to help my daddy before he died.

My father’s death was very painful for me.  I watched my father as he slowly died. For a long time, I felt hurt, and I longed to see his face just one last time. But I knew deep inside that he was suffering and though I wanted him to stay, God decided that it was time for him to go.