Memories of My Father: The Amazing Pastor Pierre Lorins
Today, as Peter’s son Lorins (the son of Pierre Lorins) I visited my Father for the second time in less than a couple of months at the hospital, I went from a denial phase to an acceptance phase. The strong Black man that was formerly known as Pastor Pierre Lorins, who was respected by so many, and feared by yet many more was no more. My Father is still the proudest, most honest, loyal and trust-worthy man that I have ever known. While many thought of him as a strict and stern religious man, he also had a humane and empathetic nature that was second to none. He was a great provider, he loved my Mother so much that he built her two houses which he owned outright and controlled his strong will to remain her husband for the rest of her life. My father was known to even whoop fighting adults on the streets to induce them to stop fighting and he was respected by both good and bad guys alike. He was so unique with a preaching style that was second to none.
I have never met a human being who enjoyed helping and giving to others more than my Father did. As a child, I felt so protected around him. He was tall, dark and strong. Like my Grandmother, he was always so proud of being a Black man, and who recite tales of the heroes of our Independence. He instilled in me a love for myself, my race, my nationality and faith. I have watched my Father hop out of his car to help far too many poor men push their carts, and I have seen him give more than any other human being I have ever seen or met. My Mother often told me of stories about how my Dad would give so much to others that he’d barely have any left for us at home.
Thus, today, as I was visiting him yet again at a hospital as he suffered from Dementia, I cannot forget that despite being robbed from his best asset, namely his memory, his mannerisms still remind me of his enigmatic personality. He was always so assertive, and exhumed such solemn respect that even during his illness he elicits reverence, honor and kindness. When I ask him questions just to hear his response and voice, I’m secretly inducing a conversation from the strongest-willed man that I have ever known (other than myself). He taught me everything that I needed to know to serve as a foundation stone for the bridge that would eventually give me access to a “city of learning” filled with others that are members of the cognitive elite. As a child, when I stuttered too much to recite my lessons, he ensured that I sang them to him and my teachers and turned a handicap into an asset and ultimately I became a star student both grades-and-reputation-wise.
Secretly, my biggest fear in life has always been to let my Dad down. When I left Haiti against his will, nothing drove me more than to ensure I didn’t fail in school or life as to not give him a reason to say, “See, I told you that the US was wrong for him.”
Naturally, when my Father found out about my triumphs over the years, he eventually called me “A HERO”. Nothing has been more important to me than that.
Of course, I have had moments in which I have been mad at my Father. But, I have never disrespected him or looked down on him, or showed any sign of dishonor or ungratefulness. Please make no mistake about it, I love this man as much as I love myself. While his religion might have robbed me of such time that could have been spent with me or my Mother and late Brother, we too enjoyed many aspects of the fruits of his labor as a Pastor.
As a child I felt like a celebrity when I was the only child in my class who had travelled to other countries including the U.S. and Canada after I performed to my Father’s standards academically. He made me feel like an over-achiever, a super-star, a life-long learner and celebrity. Never have I felt that I was not the best no matter what my income levels or grades were. Thanks to my Father, on any given day, I still believe that I am the best. While he taught me about humility, gracefulness, he also taught me to walk with my head held up high, to remember history (particularly Black History), to love myself, to be a PROUD BLACK MAN, and most important to have 100% FAITH in GOD!
While the man is now a remnant of who he used to be, his smiles and jokes, and his astute and prestigious character are still around… not to mention his strong will, and strength. MY FATHER NEVER SPEAKS WITH DOUBT… EVEN WHEN HE IS WRONG, HE IS NEVER IN DOUBT. I’m definitely his son. I was always his favorite child, we never truly fought. As a child, he always took me around because I never complained about waiting for him as he ran his numerous errands. I am now realizing how much I learned from him. He was a great man, an honorable man, and STRONG AND WISE BLACK MAN!
I know that I have made him proud and I hope that I will remain WORTHY of being called a LORINS because STILL, there is nothing more important to me than that of REPRESENTING his name with PRIDE and HONOR!
I LOVE YOU PAPA… with tears of love and admiration and tears of realization that, while you’re still alive, the strong and amazing and fear-inducing man that you used to be is NO MORE. Today, I touched your grey hair, and hope I will get to touch it again, and hear one more joke from you yet another time (smiling).
IN A RUSH
Your *PROUD* Son,
Peterson Lorins (Literally Translated as The son of Pierre Lorins)
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