Me fadda dead dis harftanoon. Or maybe dis mornin’, ah doan really know. Me sista she call me nah on me cell, say im was sick dis mornin an im tek a taxi to Kingston public ospital but ‘is eyes dem roll back all white in the taxi an im cyaan talk no more. De doctor dem aks im where it ‘urt an im point to ‘is ‘eart. And den im dead before dey can do anytin’.
Ah! Ah! Ah! When ah got de call ah couldn’t believe it. Ah staggered true de ‘ouse, me arms outstretch, graspin for sometin’ to grab onto, ah couldn’t see anytin’, ah was sobbin’ sooo ‘ard. Oh! Oh! Oh! me daughter she taught ah was laughin’. Ah got to de bartroom and sat on de toilet weepin’ wit’ me cellphone still to me ear.
Ah was goin’ to see im dis weekend … an now im go so quick an ah cyaan never see im again!
Wit’ me sista we went to the ospital. Dem say cos me daddy die so quick dem doan know how he die so they haffi cut im before we can tek the body.
Nah dem goan cut im Tuesday.
An de funeral parlour dem want 80,000 dollah fe de burial. Dem tief dem! Me get 6,000 a week, me husban a likkle more. I doan know what we goan do …
Me own church woan church me daddy cos im not a member dere. Ah’m a member fe ten years at leas’ an dem woan church mi own fadda! An dem call demselve christian! Me neighbour she give me de number of a pastor who will church im, but me ‘fraid to call and aks ‘ow much im want fe de churchin.
Me haffi go fe see the cutting. Me aks me sistah go wit’ me but she too scare fe go.