When I first met Pastor Steven Francis, I was too intimidated to do much more than greet him and smile awkwardly while Janelle, my best friend, did the introductions and explained who I was. It wasn’t because of anything he said or did, and he was as friendly as anyone I’d ever met, but he also had this presence about him that’s difficult to explain or put into words. It was a force that you could feel the moment he walked into the room; a good one, a positive one, but also such a powerful one that it made you take notice and understand that meeting him was an important moment.
It was an anticlimactic first meeting, as first meetings usually are, but then I went home and happened to mention to my parents that I’d met Janelle’s grandfather, who was a Pastor at their church. The reaction was instant and amazing. My dad’s first description of Pastor Francis was, and would continue to be repeated any time that we spoke of him, that he was “a gentleman and a soldier”. I was regaled with stories about how Pastor Francis played cricket with my dad; about how brilliant a player he was, but also so humble and easygoing, and how he instilled those same qualities – sportsmanship and humility and grace alongside the talent that had been passed down – in his sons; three of them, all of whom my parents adored. There were stories about time spent enjoying the game and the company of the team, which included my mother and Aunty Jenny keeping score because they were always so fair and knowledgeable about the game. There was stories about coaching the boys and cricket trials, and a baseball jacket from the States that my dad can still describe in perfect detail, and teaching with Aunty Jess, who had just as much of Pastor Francis in her as the boys did.
I was enthralled.
When I next met him, I was all too excited to tell him about everything I’d heard; and his reaction was as advertised. Full of humility and good cheer as he confirmed the good times he’d shared with my family before I’d ever even known there was a connection.
Fast forward about 10 years, a moment when Janelle needed to use my phone to call her grandfather, and she looked at my phone, laughed, and said, “Sha, you have his number saved as Papa.” Because yes; I did. He started off as Pastor Francis, this awe inspiring powerhouse figure, and somewhere along the line, as time passed, he somehow became Papa. I’m not sure if I ever addressed him as such, but Papa was more than just a title. It was a feeling. And that feeling was definitely there for him.
In times like these, you try to think of special moments and memories that you can talk about. One that has all the markings of a story that will perfectly capture how much love and respect and admiration we had for him, or how he changed or shaped our lives, or even just lent some warmth and love and support when we needed it. Do I talk about how he used to spoil Janelle and I whenever I went over for a sleepover? Do I mention all the times that he went out and bought us a veritable smorgasbord of tasty things and gave us free reign to tuck in and have fun? Or do I recall the bigger things? How he once brought me back a New York keyholder and pen from the States, somehow knowing that it was my dream to go there? Or how he always made me feel like a part of the family, more than just Janelle’s best friend? Or how he performed a beautiful registration for my brother and sister-in-law because we wanted someone we considered family to carry out something that was so special to us?
Only when I was talking to Janelle about doing this tribute, did I realize that Papa was so much more than just that one, perfect memory. Papa was a series of little moments and heartwarming memories, of which we all have so many, that made up one amazing person who we can hold in our hearts as we go forward in life and thank God for blessing us with the opportunity to meet and know and love.
So that’s all I want to do with this. I just want to say thank you to Papa for being so much more to me, and to my family, than I think he ever really knew. I only hope he knew what he meant to me. He was so loved and will be so missed; as all the best people are.
Lauriksha Dhewlall
