Remembering My Father’s Voice

It’s Father’s Day weekend. And it’s also four years since my own father passed on. Grief is strange in that it wraps itself around days like this. Even when you are doing okay, it tugs gently at your heart, reminding you of what once was. And who once was.

I have been thinking a lot about Baba these past few days. About the long calls after work, the ones where we would talk about everything and nothing. He always had a way of turning the most ordinary update into something worth discussing. I would tell him what was happening at work, and he would tell me what was happening in his life. Even in retirement, he still had opinions and insights, as if he never really left the office.

On my birthday, without fail, he would call and remind me as only a father can, that I was getting old. We would laugh. It was his way of saying, “Look how far you’ve come.” His sense of humor was sharp. I can still hear it, and I don’t even need to try hard.

He loved to talk about global politics and his beloved soccer team, which also became the team all of us, his children, support, Caps United. Even when they were losing, especially when they were losing, he was loyal like that. Passionate. Committed. A man with strong faith convictions. I miss those conversations.

More than anything, I miss the sound of his voice. There is a quiet space in my life now where that voice used to live. A grounding presence. A rhythm at the end of a long day. A voice that might have been so ordinary and yet so irreplaceable.

One of Baba’s favorite verses was Psalms 84 vs 6

“As they pass through the valley of Baca, they make it a place of springs; the early rain also covers it  with pools”

Pavanopfuura nomuMupata weBhaka, vanouita nzvimbo yamatsime; mvura yomuzhizha inouzadzawo namadziva

The song from that verse always stayed with him. And now, it stays with me because Baba knew a God who turned dry, difficult valleys into places of life and wisdom. He introduced us his children to the God he served, and even in his absence, we continue to serve this same God!


Four years still feels fresh in some ways. And this year Father’s Day is a few days from my birthday. It’s kind of a double whammy. I am not writing this for sympathy. I am writing it to remember, to honour a man who shaped so much of who I am, my work ethic, my curiosity, my very stubborn streak, my faith and my belief that conversation can fix almost anything.

If you still have your dad around, call him. Talk about politics, football, the weather, talk about everything. One day, those conversations will be the things you hold on to the tightest.

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads  here and gone and especially to mine.

This week on my playlist is The Way You Father Me by Elijah Oyelade. Amazing song about God’s love for us.

Gratitude: This week, I am grateful for having experienced the love of an earthly father. I learnt  much later in life that this was not everyone’s reality. I thank my heavenly Father as I remember and honor my earthly father.

Gratefully