THE LAST GOODBYE
Princess Burrows
Six years and I still haven’t accepted my parents’ death. Truthfully, I don’t believe I will ever come to terms with it. They were such a loving couple, despite the challenges of raising three small children. What I appreciated about them were the godly morals they instilled in us. I can picture her now; mummy was the most beautiful woman I have ever known. She was not as tall as daddy, but she towered over me at just 5 ft 5 inches tall. She had beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes and a sharp nose. Her most distinguishing feature was her long black hair which she kept neatly braided while laying on her shoulder like a scarf on a cool day. He didn’t say so, but I believe by the way daddy looked at her, he thought so too.
Mummy worked as a Health Care Worker in West Elder a home for the elderly in Buttercup Sound. Everyone there appreciated her as well, and they eagerly looked forward to her shifts. She was a hard-working lady who was sharp-witted and compassionate. She would often come home in the evenings baring her soul to daddy about the people she worked with that day, as though their burdens were hers. Although her job had long hours and required her to be away from home for long periods, she made sure that her family was well cared for. I can recall mummy rising as early as 5:00 in the morning to prepare our breakfast and lunch. When she was through with that task, she would iron my clothes for school. Like most of the ladies we knew, mummy took the meat out and seasoned it in the morning so we would have a hot meal when we returned home. I got to go to school, but my little brothers stayed home with daddy.
Everybody said that my father was an excellent boat builder. He was also a boat captain and a notorious fisherman by trade. Daddy had a big bald head that shined when the sun reflected on his greased scalp. Compared to the size of his head, his eyes seemed small while tucked slightly above his sprawling flat nose. At six feet tall, his height was often intimidating to shorter people, but he was a gentle giant when he smiled or laughed. His ability to not allow stress to bother him was also admirable. Whenever mummy had a problem and she took it to daddy, he would always smile at her and comment, “Why worry when you can pray.” Daddy worked nights as a security guard at Bluefield Point, the only clinic in our settlement.
Princess Burrows is a published author of the 2nd edition of Letters to My Mother: Confessions of Engine #9, a children's and young adult's book which shares robust life-lessons through the eyes of a rambunctious young man. Letters to My Mother captures the colorful escapades of young Baton Grey (affectionately called, Engine #9), a mischievous boy, who is often led astray by his friends on a remote island in the Bahamas. She has penned several other soon to be published books for children.
In addition to being an experienced educator with involvement in youth work for well over 20 years, Mrs. Burrows is also the pastor of The New Highway Pentecostal Church, in Love Hill, Andros. Pastor Burrows' love for young people has led her to share invaluable lessons to celebrate life while maximizing their potential in an engaging manner. She is married to Mario Burrows and the couple has two beautiful daughters, Janiece and Jaidan. The Burrows family resides on the island of Andros, in the Bahamas.
Letters to My Mother: Confessions of Engine #9 is now available in paperback and eBook. Read today on your favorite device.
However, he would take my brothers and me fishing near Bill’s Creek in his dinghy on weekends. The Creek was often the ideal fishing ground to catch snappers and yellow tails, which daddy taught us how to clean before we took them home to mummy. I treasured these times with my father.
My parents met at my grandmother’s small shop in Rocky’s Hill. As the story goes, daddy, who was twenty-one years old at the time, went there with a group of friends to buy fishing bait. While there, he noticed my mother, who was only nineteen years old at the time. I always loved how my father told the story. He said he was waiting to be served when he noticed the most beautiful young girl, he had ever seen approach them. Awestruck by her appearance, he nudged his best friend and told him that she was going to be his wife someday. Initially, mummy rejected my daddy’s advances, but eventually, his persistence wore her down. After much coaxing, my parents were married in a small Baptist church in Coconut Bright two years later, then they moved to Lanes.
Two years into the marriage, I was born. Owen is four years younger than I, and Odel is two years younger than he. Although my parents experienced many financial challenges, they always made sure food was on the table. My parents were my heroes and the love they showed to each other and to us, as well as the sacrifices they made has permanently imprinted my life. I remember one night only having a piece of leftover bread with a small tin of sardines. We expected to receive some much-needed groceries on the mail boat from Nassau, but the supplies missed the boat, and my parents did not have enough money to make a local purchase. My mother prepared the table that night as if she were serving royalty. Not much was said as my brothers, and I ate our simple meal. After dinner, my parents turned out the night lamp, and we all went to bed. It was not until the following day that I realized my parents had gone to bed hungry.
I will never forget the year I turned nine. I recall it just like it was yesterday. I was born in the month of March, and my parents died one week after my birthday. Daddy had a job interview in another settlement called Cedar’s Sound, which was fifty miles away from our home in Lanes. My parents were excited about the prospects of this new employment. It would mean that they did not have to struggle so much anymore. A whole new world with exciting possibilities would be opened to them. Our financial struggles would be a thing of the past, and mummy would be able to reduce her hours at work. The fact that daddy would be home at night with us was yet another blessing. Finally, we would be able to “have our cake and eat it too.” That night my parents left us in the care of our aunt Mae, my mother’s only sister, as they were expected to return before midnight.
Before leaving, mummy hugged my two brothers and me. Little did we know that it would be the last time we would experience our mother’s gentle touch, see her contagious smile, or even hear our father’s cheerful laughter as he urged her to get in the car. Mummy and daddy drove away as we waved, running behind the car as though they were off on a long journey. Hours later I sat at the window waiting for my parents to return from their trip. They said they would be back. The days rolled into weeks, then the months into years. Now my waiting has turned to hope as I look forward to the day we would somehow be together again.