I spent three months with Mama and Papa in that quaint place in Jamaica as I regained my purpose for living. There was no internet and I had to wash my clothes by hand but I wouldn’t have traded that time for the world. I had regained my energy and vitality for life and saw first hand what Divine manhood looked like.

Age, nor cancer could’ve hidden Papa’s beauty, he shined brighter than a star even despite his condition. His body was a temporary shell but within, there he was, ever present, ever vibrant, ever living, ever shining. He had a gratefulness for life and the simple things.

One day I too hoped to be blessed with a Divine man. Papa embodied manhood, masculinity and a humanity that was so unlike anything else I had seen. He was soft-spoken yet masculine, jovial yet powerful, and while his outer shell at that point in his life was failing he depicted an uncanny vitality and zest for living.

It wasn’t a fake positivity nor was it a dying man's last hope of life. He was just magnificently himself. There was something within him that was shining forth, and nothing and no one could’ve dimmed his shine.

I was happy for my grandmother that she had 'found' him, and likewise for him too, and inwardly I too wished for a day to experience the same with a man who transcended even physicality.

"I know who I want to marry now," I told my aunt Loris.

"Who?" she responded back.

"A man like Papa. A Divine man," I told her.

"Oh gosh, Sim, me too. He really is the best. But I don't know if that's out there anymore."

"It's got to be. I haven't met one yet but he can't be the only one, could he," I responded back not wanting an answer.

When I left to return home back to my American dream, I had a refreshing perspective on life. I bid farewell to everyone and thanked my lucky stars that I had gotten a chance to reacquaint myself with Papa. Those few months I spent with Papa would be the last I ever spent with him. It's been three years (10 years at the time of this blog post) since he passed and I just needed to write a testament that depicted the incredible man he is. I wish I had taken more pictures of him, but at the time, I didn't think my camera captured the true essence of him that I saw when I looked at him. So every last picture I had taken of him I deleted in the same moment I took. No not this one, it's not him, not the him I'm seeing, I said to myself. And for some reason I couldn't capture the 'him' I saw, the him I knew him to be within. It's like my camera hadn't reached that depth; it captured his dying body, yet not his essence and soul, not who he is. I wasn't satisfied with any of the pictures I took of him, this wasn't because of any superficial reasons and not even because I didn't want to show him in that light while he was dying, but simply because what my camera was capturing wasn't him, it couldn't capture his essence in the way I saw him. Yet in my mind's eyes there he is, even now, ever present, vibrant, alive, smiling his beautiful genuine smile that reaches the depth of my soul. Yes, he was Divine, that I know fullheartedly.

I believe the Universe understood the importance he would play in my life. I needed to see him, meet him and see what Divine masculinity looked like. In him I saw the beauty of manhood without the thwarted effects of patriarchy. I saw Papa exactly as he was; a delightful man who appreciated his life, family, and friends with every ounce of his being.