Dear Romeo,

Since you’ve been gone, all I can think about is what you taught me. I am so
grateful to have learned so many life lessons from you. You were my best
friend and almost my lover too. Here is some of your best advice:
● Don’t dress like an elf (even though I still have my elf shoes, I
coordinate them now . . . most days anyway).
● Don’t hang up the phone without saying a proper goodbye and giving
the other person a chance to do the same.
● Don’t dance to music ridiculously; appreciate it.
● Appreciate items genuinely when someone lets you borrow them and
make sure to give them back.
● Be extra patient with the people you love.
● Be thankful and grateful for the little things and smallest of gifts.
● Learn by doing.
● Get sincerely excited when something awesome is happening (like
being at a Flogging Molly concert)
● Love the planet, protect it, and stand up for it, even if you fail.
● Go to the places you have always dreamed of going, and do the things
you have always dreamed of doing.
● Appreciate great music (metal bands like Of Mice and Men, Attila,
beautiful bands like Pretty Lights, and some goofy 80’s and 90’s bands
like New Kids on the Block)
● Always make time for the people you love.
● Be yourself and don’t worry about impressing people.
● Love the quiet spots of home (Beans Bottom, the pump house, etc.)
● Never feel like you have to deal with anything alone. Those who love
you the most will never let that happen.
Your Best Friend,

Dad,

It’s been six years. Six years of living with a pain I knew was inevitable. With the inevitability of it, one could hope to prepare but the magnitude of your presence made that impossible and I knew that too.

For twenty-three years, you were the best dad. As cliché as it may sound, you were. A single parent to a strong willed, sharp tongued little girl, or as most would say, just plain mean, you ensured I had everything I needed, patience, love, and understanding…along with the material things. Looking back, your resourcefulness is astounding. I remember you calling into radio stations, winning tickets to see ballet troupes such as, Les Ballet Africains or concert tickets for groups like the Wailers. You wanted to expose me to as much as possible. I had the privilege of going everywhere with you, including your job. Every day. By the time, I was fourteen, I had traveled to over fifteen states, and none of your colleagues would be surprised to see me at your annual conferences. You put me in tennis and dance classes, and would stay up all night helping me with homework and consistently gave me satirical approaches to biased essay assignments.

While everything you did for me was remarkable, your exceptional character left the indelible mark. Being an educator and organizer, I observed you at many podiums. The well being of people was your priority. It was exhibited in you letting your students borrow your personal laptop so they could complete assignments and in your organization of events attended by thousands fighting against injustices. You were known for closing out conversations, meetings, and speeches by saying ‘Forward!’ The full version being, ‘Forward Forever! Backward Never!’

Growing up, I had an acute awareness that you likely would not live an extensive life due to the work you did and the society we live in. I constantly stressed about how I would live in a world without you. I would remind myself that wasn’t my reality, ‘cross that bridge once we arrive’ and I hoped to never get there, but then you were diagnosed with cancer at stage 4 and after fighting several years, we arrived at that bridge.

I’ll never forget being the one to tell you and I apologize for not delivering the news with the tenderness I know you would’ve if the roles were reversed. Three weeks. That was the prognosis. In the proceeding days, I grabbed a pen and yellow pad, but that wasn’t enough. I opened the voice notes app on my phone and pressed record, prepared to soak up as much knowledge as I could. Most of my questions were met with an “I don’t know.” I was frustrated but I recognized that while you were dying you didn’t have the ability to write the story of how I would live. You never did. You always told me my life was mine. At the end of the day, I had to be happy. “I don’t know” wasn’t the only answer I got that day to my endless list of questions. You also told me to maintain my principles and when asked what I should keep in mind at all times when life got hard and I needed you, you said remember all the happy moments. I didn’t know what to do with that or so I thought.

About a month after you passed, I reached out to the advisor of the academic journal for my graduate program about returning to the editorial board for which I had served as an editor the year prior. I was simply asking if I needed to apply to the position again. It was fun and I was no longer a caregiver so I figured I didn’t have a reason not to. I received an unexpected response; she emailed back letting me know that she would like to discuss me becoming the next co-editor-in-chief. Given my social anxiety, I thought the logical response would be to respectfully decline like I did the undergraduate valedictorian speech where you were quietly disappointed. There was no way I could oversee a board of my peers and be a primary voice in publishing a publication that reflected them along with an academic institution, but I knew to identify the voice that was saying I couldn’t, fear. You always repeated the quote “There’s nothing to fear but fear itself. ” So, despite my fears, I took the position. I asked us to define our objective because everything should be done with a purpose. Most importantly, it should be done together. You taught me that the world should be left a better place than we found it. We should leave something for the next generation to build off. The only way we leave something substantial is by working together so I blurred the lines of editors, managing editors, and co-editors-in-chief ensuring that all decisions were made collectively and objectively. You encouraged and nurtured critical thought. “You need to think at all times.” I remember that coming to me the night before our most important meeting where our shortlist would be finalized and I jokingly thought ‘what interesting ideas would be mentioned to increase readership that weren’t in line with our objective’ so I could prepare. However, I ended up coming up with an idea that did align with our objective, to have a panel at the annual research symposium, which the board was excited to create. A month before we published, I received another unexpected email, I was the co-recipient of one of the department’s annual awards, for making the greatest contribution to the student association and publication. They went on to detail what I mentioned above. My goal in defining our objective, fostering a democratic environment, and developing ideas for growth wasn’t to win an award but lead the creation of a body of work people could be proud of. Not just those actively working on it but those who entered the program after us. That was you.

Three years later, I was seeking a job opportunity where I could grow and develop my skills. I came across a position at a prestigious university. For once in my life, I didn’t overthink it. I applied. During my third interview, walking around the campus, the interviewer asked if I thought I could oversee a student staff of seventy people. Without hesitation, I said “yes.” So much so, he responded, “yes?” and I reaffirmed. In that moment, I honestly shocked myself. Before eventually accepting the position, the largest staff I oversaw was that of about twenty people. I didn’t know how I would do it successfully. How I would make sure they not only succeeded in their responsibilities of the position but I nurtured their talents and skills in preparation of them entering the real world, how I would lead meetings, present to large audiences and stakeholders on their behalf. Nine months into the position, on my birthday, I got a text message, a two-minute video of more than twenty students sending well wishes and saying thank you. Two months later when our seniors graduated, I received messages and cards expressing similar gratitude.

I thought I didn’t know how to live in a world without you, but in continuing to just move forward, one step at a time, I think I do. Thank you.

Love,

Dear Family Friend,

It’s been a while since I last wrote you a thank you note or any letter.

It’s not even ten years since you went to the After Life.

In the beginning, I would never have considered you and your sister becoming our friends of the family since we had nothing in common. But life is full of great surprises.

My brother and I still remember when I put my big life-size plush dog in the coat closet to jump at you when you opened the door. And then you did the payback of putting him in the bathtub behind the shower curtain for me to jump back. Good one!

It was lovely of you to cut your long auburn hair and donate it to make wigs for kids with cancer. I never realized how thick it was. I still treasure my long hair, but intend to donate it one day in your honor.

When having your first grandson, you kept saying “I’m too young to be a grandma!”, as one in her forties. Soon enough, you would not stop talking about him and showing many baby pictures. I almost wanted to poke fun at the fact that you weren’t ready to be a grandma beforehand. I’m so glad now I kept quiet——it was one of your most joyous times, a month before the diagnosis.

I know everyone has habits, and sometimes can’t help it. Yet, this was one of those times that I hated smoking.

Because you loved my handmade items, you asked that I knit you a purple hat with the light yellow cancer ribbon attached. I always knew that I would knit hats for cancer patients. But never thought the first was to be for a friend.

When you had the strength to visit, you proudly displayed the hat I made. Then, you took it off to show your bald head that once held the short thick auburn hair. I knew that the hair was gone. I only stood there, emotionless, mind blank. With your hand on my shoulder, from hazel eyes to brown eyes, you said “It’s going to be alright. I’m fine.”

You needed to say that for yourself than for me at the time. You wanted courage. You never want us to worry or fret.

For months, it looked like you would beat it. In the end, cancer beat the chemo. Only months left. There was nothing to do.

You and your family got to watch over my cat, for the last time, She sure liked you since she was a kitten. I believe she knew you were going away, because she wasn’t energetic, and didn’t want to play for six weeks… as if she were in her way of mourning.

It was a stormy, summer Sunday when you left.

Your memorial service was very colorful. Your “Wizard of Oz” collection is on display, some items for auction (so to take your ashes to New York since you wanted to go there), with cookies and donuts, and many of the firefighters there as friends of yours. And it’s like you are playing the last prank by being late to your funeral! (They forgot to take your ashes to the altar!)

You always admired anything made by me and my brother. You said that if any of us became famous, you would love a personal autograph. Your sister and you were among the few who believed in us. Sometimes, I feel survivor’s guilt since you aren’t here to see our success or published work based on your encouragement and support. It will even be harder in the years to come.

Yet, you never would want me to live a life that isn’t mine. You wouldn’t want me to pity or be easily discouraged, not even let me live the simple life, knowing I wouldn’t be happy to live that way. You would want me to unlock all the creativity from my mind to change the world!

So far, your sister stopped working in the cleaning business and now works alongside children with special needs.

My brother is still in love with filming and has worked on a few fun projects.

You would have loved to meet my husband. He’s very sweet, supportive, and has some jokes and pranks up his sleeve from time to time like the rest of us.

As for me, I’ve been working on my handmade items for a future business, but have my hands full in writing projects. Each one step closer to something more to fulfill the long-time dream.

We all miss, and think of you, often. I know that whatever my life will be, you will shout and cheer me on. I will see you again one day, friend.

Plenty of days
In plenty of ways
I never thought
I had to live without
The woman who birth me
Continuously struggling
With her absence
Trying to put the pieces back together
Rebuilding my life
Without my mom
To witness my success
And the failures
I had to overcome
Without her keen talks
To cheer me up
Makes me feel sad and blue
I yearn for her voice
Her smile
Her laugh
Her presence
That’s why I always tell people
Cherish your mom
‘Cause losing her
You can never get another
Just memories to last forever
Besides my Bae, family and close friends
Being a source of inspiration
My mom is honestly the driving force
Behind my tenacity
She taught me the importance of
Hard work and dedication
She was amazing at everything she did
She got opportunities to live her life
As she saw fit
Much of her is in me
I’m her twin
Many can tell by just looking at me
In life and in death
My mom continues to show me
I can do all that I set out to do
No matter what I’m doing
Or what I’m going through
I take a moment or two
To reflect:
What will mommy do?
What will mommy say?
All the while reminding myself
That she is 1 of the reasons
That I am who I am
I’m forever grateful
For my Granny and Grandpa
God rest their souls
‘Cause without them
There will be no Margot
So I’m forever thankful
For her legacy
Now it’s time to create mines
Mama, I will make you proud‼️

I really miss you.

It didn’t hit me until this year.
Almost 11 years later, just to remind me of how the 11’s, 13th’s and 21’s loved to dance in my head.
Having their own ballet of unfortunate events in my memory bank.
While your memory plays on a loop.
Yet that value always outweighs the sadness.
Holding on to your memories like toes on a tight rope. And as I still walk around cautiously keeping my head on a swivel because you always told me how to aim high.

And here I am…. still looking up hoping that one day you’d say something. Tell me that everything that I have been through is bringing me to this point. That all my worries are just stepping stones. That you are proud.

We don’t get that luxury down here but to know is all we need.
Great is thy faithfulness and to be absent is to be present above. How the way love always carried a tune with you.
You always taught me so much.
Leaving your mark.
I just wish your fragrance lasted longer.

Out of all the things you’ve taught me the urge to not question God never faded. I’ll never know what could come from this grief. While still being curious.
Why did you have to be on the starting pick for the 2013 Draft? Out of all the strongest players but this must be the best seat.
Seeing my accomplishments and growth.
Acknowledging that you are proud in my baby girls smile.
Without creating the space within me I really wouldn’t be in the place I am in.
Walked in rooms that I could only imagine the smell of the paint.
As your memory remains on going. Know that everything is still in remembrance of you.
And I may didn’t live up to my end because life just has its own way.

I miss you. Sorry that it took me so long to add ink to it.

Lourdes Islas Martinez, I didn’t know you.
I never thought I looked like you.
But I think of you almost every day.

When I was little, I thought of you when I looked down at my thumbs.
“Those skip a generation,” Mom said. “My mother had thumbs like that!”

Is it weird to say I feel connected to you by toe thumbs?

As I approached forty (and Mom had made it to sixty-seven) I wondered if what had taken you early from your family would take me early from mine. Does cancer skip a generation too?

When I lost my pregnancy and someone said something ugly, I cried and cried and cried.
I stopped taking your great-grandbabies on field trips.
On Sundays, I hid between the pews.

Do you remember how your memory snapped me out of my misery when I had a panic attack too?

It was Mom’s memory of you and Aunt Lizzy and the watermelon seeds.
It made me think of something else.
It was another weird connection (kind of like toe thumbs).

‘Cucaracha! Cucaracha!!! CUCARACHA!!!!’
Mom ran into the kitchen screaming while you were on the phone!

You ran into the bathroom, screaming at those little black ovals.
They were floating, creeping, SNEAKING toward Lizzy’s chubby legs.
Mom laughed and teased, “Those are just my watermelon seeds!”

You were too kind to punish her.
You just said, “Wait until your father gets home.”

Do you know Mom ends every story of you the same way?

My mother was the kindest person.
I wish you could have known her.
You are just like her.
You would have loved her.
She was very social.

That day I cried until my heart was in my throat,
I was thinking of you, Mom, and Aunt Lizzy and the watermelon seeds.
I was picturing you in heaven pain free.
Were you whispering to me?
Or was it God with a divine Dad joke?
I don’t know, but this was the thought that came:

Dead people don’t gossip—they have better things to do.
Don’t you?

That snapped me up and made me laugh.
It was true.

I couldn’t picture you fretting over church gossip.
In the presence of God and everything holy and good.

Though I hadn’t been the one spreading it,
I’d been repeating it.
I’d been saying it in my mind and thinking things no one should.

That answer gave me peace that day, but it didn’t stop compulsive thoughts I tried not to think or “bad” feelings I tried not to feel.

If someone at church was unkind.
Or angry.
Or disappointed.
Or they gossiped about me.
It got me every time.

When that happened, I didn’t think of things said and done when I was young to try and make me conform or “believe.”
I just physically felt the same things as if I was again fifteen.

It would be years before other answers came.
Such as not allowing others to mistreat me or my family (even at church).

But that answer that day, thinking of you, turned my thoughts toward God.
It put me in His (and your) light.

The anticipation of a conversation
a moment’s pause, a heart’s sensation
An expectation of words unsaid
A binding connection, a delicate thread

The fabric was woven, the story was told
a legacy kept, forever to hold
A journey of words, a longing to know became a tapestry rich, a narrative to grow

The art of conversation, a gentle guide
leading me through the labyrinth of time
To listen to memories, a heart’s treasure a mind’s archive, a soul’s measure

All that you were and the joy you spread became part of me, of who I am
Reflections of my younger days your voice, your presence, your beautiful face

Our memories, an album of distant times
keeps the joy of better days alive
Reluctant to embark on unknown paths
comfort comes from waves of our past

Your existence upon which I became
was a guide, a light, so much more than name
The courage you showed throughout your life
echoes deep within the depths of my mind

In that stillness, I found my voice
A sense of clarity, a heartfelt choice
The silence beckoned, I found my way
to a place of peace, where love will stay

“Go Ahead!” “Take Your Time.” Life Is An Ongoing Process”,
From One’s Life To One’s Deaths, We All Struggle For Existence,
It’s The Time Between The Two That One’s Great Wisdom Is Missed,
Now Where do I Even Start From this long, successful list?

A Rising Student at Cathedrals,
A Regentonian with Great Grammar,
A Traveler Past Lagos Canals,
To A Bay Fourah away-planner,
A man that favors morals, ethics and logistics,
And motion, momentum, Work done in Applied Physics.

A Father To Many And Grandfather To Many More,
Some Of Us May Openly Grieve While Others Have In Store,
The Sight From The Juba House Window Darkens As Far As Can See,
Will Miss The Stories At The Table Of Brer Fox And Anansi.
The Balls Played In The Compound Near The Toyota and Mercedes,
Will Miss Your Baritone Laugh Accompanied With Star or Baileys.

I Recall Your Tuning To The Radio,
BBC Or 98.6 Ratio,
To Pick Out Rhetoric In The Daily News,
Is a Skill I Wish To Master In The Views,
“If You Can’t Make A Friend, Do Not Make An Enemy,”
Your Words I Find Difficult To Follow Mentally,
Perhaps It Is The Plight Of The Young Man Within Me,
The Angst, The Confusion And All Things Lemony,
Your Last Advice Was That My Chance Would Come Soon,
And When It Comes, I Must Rise Up And Not Gloom,
I Know That I Can’t List All Of Your Success And The Steps,
But Like You Used To Say “Life Is An Ongoing Process.”

Dear God,

It’s internally overwhelming dealing with death. It’s like going out to dinner with 7 people at a table. You’re all aughing, smiling, enjoying that meal because it’s filled with love and it’s seasoned well. Your meal is over and it’s time to go back home, but then one of you don’t get back in the car. Your family is in the car and you watch the other family member stand outside the car. You wave to them and you become sad. It’s now 6 of you in the car driving back home in silence and confusion. You have to put that key in the door, open it and go up to that room where that person is no longer coming home to get in that bed. “Is this real?”

Reality hits and now you are sad. You’re crying, hyperventilating, and your brain is racing. You ask yourself “What just happened?” “Wait, wait, did I just leave my loved one at the restaurant and watch them walk off into the fog? “Maybe, I was dreaming?” You realized that you’re not. “Are they ever coming back?” “Who told tthem to go off into the fog like that?” You grab your phone to call them and hope they will pick up. RING…. RING….RING.. RING…

You hear something, as if someone picked up… “You have reached the voicemail of Pablo Joshua, please leave a message after the tone” “Dad, dad, are you there?” …BEEEEP…….. “Dad, please pick up, it’s me, Janet”. “Dad, can you hear me?” Then……Cancer, he answers. “No, your father is not here anymore, but you can speak to him at anytime”……silence…… more silence… more hyperventilating…..more heartache.. tears fall profusively…

“Hello, cancer, you really took him? Cancer, you son of a bitch! “

You really took him away from me, away from all of us??”…Who invited you into our lives?”.

You grab your chest because you can’t breathe. You even think, “maybe I should go back to that restaurant and join him in the fog”.

No, you can’t do that!

Its’s morning. I hear calypso music playing. The sun is up. I just don’t smell Johnny Cakes. I wish I did.

My dad is in my house and I see him everyday. I hear his voice, his fingers snapping, and his feet tapping to Hall & Oates.

(Music playing…lyrics are in tune)….
“You’re a rich girl, and you’ve gone too far
cause you know it don’t matter anyway…
You can rely on the old man’s money..
You can rely on the old man’s money..”

I walk down my steps and I see him. I smile. “Look at him, having a ball”, feeling the music in his soul. His eyes are closed and he is smiling. I see it. Look, at him. It’s my youngest son. His face is just like his. His soul is just like his. It’s beautiful to see. He’s my fathers twin.

I go down another flight of stairs and look at my dad, laughing and talking on the phone. Its my dads laugh so distinctively. It’s my oldest son. He’s my dads other twin.

I’m out at a restaurant and it’s music playing. I hear my dad speaking and playing his favorite tunes. I stop short, look up and smile. It’s him. There he is, being an amazing DJ that he loves to be. The voice on the mic and that’s Pablo’s voice. It’s, my brothers voice. He is such a great DJ, just like my dad. He makes his sets and send them out to people so they can enjoy and feel the love for music just like he taught us.

Wait! Just wait a minute, look at my dad out there on the dance floor. He loves two stepping to the music. I hear Anita Baker, Kenny G, and calypso king, Arrow. You can tell he feels the music with every step he takes. It’s My little brother and he is out dancing and smiling on the dance floor, just like my dad.

I hear sports playing, it’s loud. I use to wish he would turn that down. I hear the commentary. He’s watching sports. and now he’s broadcasting live from the station. Who would have thought that Dad? I know you are so proud of your baby boy. My youngest brother is the sportscaster. He is my dads other twin.

I see and hear my dad all the time. I’m blessed. I’m grateful. He lives in me everyday, he lives in my sons and my brothers.

God, my father taught me all about music.
He lived and breathed music. All genres!

What more could I ask for? God, his spirit is never leaving my house. You were right. I want to thank you God. I want to thank you for taking my dad and putting his soul at peace. As much as I said, I wish he was here for this or that… he is., and he multiplied.

Thank you!
Love Tiny!

P.S., please let my dad know, that I miss him and his legacy of music and sports will live on forever.

Wait, I can just tell him myself.
Good night!

Rest in peace to my dad, Pablo E Joshua 1/25/48 to 4/16/18

You were always on my side
You were my joy; I was your pride
In this cruel world, just us vs. them,
But all good things come to an end
Now I’m left here all alone
With that final goodbye,
My life shattered in the blink of an eye
Lost like an orphaned fawn,
How can I ever carry on
Without the only friend I’ve ever known?

Let the wires cross
Let the signal be lost
My thoughts erratic,
Lost in the radio static
Now that you’re not there
Make no mistake
There’s no return from this break
No time to dwell on loss,
Here’s my heart signing off,
Fading into dead air

So I’ll reset that emotional dial
And face it all with a smile,
Let this world strike me down
I’ll never show them a frown
As I try to live by your advice
With the tools you gave in hand,
Here and now I make my stand
Forgive me for not growing strong
Enough in time to right your wrongs
But it will not happen twice!

Let them know our pain
Let the chaos rain
From the heavens above
As they say, in war and love
Everything is fair
If I must cross this line
I’ll stand up for what’s mine
Now there’s no turning back
As the scene cuts to black,
Fading into dead air