My dad William T Franklyn, passed away when I was 3 years old. His face is sketchy in my mind but it feels as if I know him. I know he would’ve liked the man I’ve grown to be. He was born on the 15th February 1962 and passed away on the 7th April 1998. His body was laid to rest at the Bushy Park Cemetery.
He was pastor of Ragged Point Wesleyan and a carpenter by profession. I can say he was passionate about his work as a carpenter, as he hired no one to do anything on his house, he would do it himself. His passion for God was no different, travelling on missionary trips and dedicating his resources to the Ministry. He also found the love of his life (my mom) Claudette Franklyn on a missionary trip. Dad definitely killed two birds with one stone I’ll say.
Dad’s passing was not easy, as my brothers and I were small kids and it was very hard to understand certain things. For my mom it was like her other half was gone. She had to raise us three boys without a father figure, but it was by the grace of God we have turned out to be bold, hardworking, kind-hearted young gentlemen. We try our bests to make her proud and fill her heart with comfort.
Being the last of three children I wasn’t spared from his punishment. As young as I was I was corrected just as efficiently as my brothers.
There was this one time, the memory is as crystal clear like I’m still three years old. It all started as my dad was preparing for a nightly church service. He got us together and said “No one is to watch television until I return home!” We all replied “Okay dad.” Off to church he went and 5 minutes hadn’t even passed before me and my 2 brothers were daring each other to turn on the TV.
We all knew how furious dad would’ve gotten if he had found out we disobeyed him directly. That didn’t stop us and before long the TV was on and we all sat there enjoying the night time cartoons. Brothers wouldn’t be brothers without disputes and so said so done. My eldest brother told me to go lock the window and my reply was no, as I was too invested in the TV show. That as we had grew to learn, was called ‘back chat’. Back chat wasn’t allowed and was a certain no no in our house as kids. “Wait until daddy get home” my eldest brother reassured.
Time passed and we had heard a knocking at the door… No one dared to moved because the TV was still on. My other big brother now who is the second oldest, crawled on his belly, offed the TV and opened the door for our father. It seemed he had forgotten about his rule not to turn on the TV, but my brother didn’t forget to tell him about my back chat. All you could hear is “Kenny said what?!” he shouted and I was lifted by my ankle upside down, while he drew his belt… I knew never to give back chat again.
From the little bits of memory that have come together, they’ve made me the man that I am today, the man that I model to be…. I do it for my dad. We really miss you dad, R.I.P