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My Blog

Memoirs of a Fatherless Boy

...a long anticipated inquiry of my absentee mother, whom I had not seen in over nine-years, as to "what did my father look like?" was answered by a hopeful self-pleasing and daunting, "look into the mirror and you would see."

I could never accept this explanation from my mother because everything from her to me appeared questionable that summer in New York City, New York, where I was seeing her for the first time since she left me at the age of seven on the Caribbean island, of Barbados. 

It was now nine-years later and I had quickly and resolutely developed a characteristic to question all things rendered as reasons and explanations to all events, for in the time my mother had left me, a brother and a half-sister, I had seen and witnessed many evils of humankind, committed with some absurd explanation that such deeds should never be questioned, but be accepted just because a child was instructed to do so. I rejected all such reasoning. I demanded truth, honest and moral standing.

Before my mother had left Barbados seeking refuge in the United States(US) back in 1970, she and other relatives had informed me that my father, a Grenadian national, residing in Barbados, had died when I was two-years-old. I am yet to see a photograph of any scientific image of my father.

My mother's rendition that I resembled my father was preposterous to me. They all had told me that he was bald - receded from the forehead. Then, I had a full head of hair. Today, I am bald, not by nature, but by my own self-affliction. Thus I could never fathom any truth that I could resemble my father on my mother's claim that I "look into the mirror and you would see." 

Not one adult, including uncles and aunts, of my mother's relations, who have known me from birth, have ever said to me that I look like my father. 

Yet, I wish I resemble my father so that at least, I could have some closure per my mere existence, my ancestry and my history.