It is my great honour to read the Northrop Frye prayer Bobby chose for this sad but blessed day. Sad, because he is no longer with us in the physical world but blessed because all in this room had the good fortune to know this remarkable man.

Let us serve the mind of God with honest reasoning, with tested evidence, with impartial judgement, with respect for all creative gifts. 
Let us serve the spirit of God by working for peace on earth, for good will and tolerance, for fulfilling the dignity of all human beings.
Let us strive for the courage to succeed without arrogance and to fail without despair.
Let us listen to the wise man who would have us rejoice in each of our years, however many or few and however frequent the dark days. 
Let us abide, now and always, in the presence of the light that created our minds, the love that created our souls and the peace that so greatly transcends us and which none-the-less we hope to share. 

Today we all gather here to share in our remembrance and celebration of my dear step-father, a man of good will, tolerance, wisdom, and love, and rejoice in the many years or few moments we knew him.

Throughout this last three weeks, my family has been flooded with tales and memories of Bobby as an educator, diplomat, thinker, and scholar. My memories of Bobby are of the day-to-day life of building and being a family. Bobby was there through my years of what he might call in-betweenity – that is adolescence – and beyond.

At first, this man seemed pompous and old fashioned to my young self and in those early years I resisted accepting him in my life. I rolled my eyes he – with all his doctorates and accolades – just could not work a microwave or panicked that the motor was breaking down when my brother Martin was playing techno music in the car. This man who opened car doors for me and left his expert understanding of grammar at the door when he asked “How you do?” Who was this man?

Of course I remember the deep embarrassment my shy self suffered over many nights as he praised me as an elegant regal goddess, or teased me mercilessly. While I hated both at the time, his praise taught me to see my potential and his teasing improved my wit.I learned to fight back, knowing I`d won with every ‘allllright, alllright!’ Around our table - you could get poked or praised, but always found out something new about yourself. We all grew and achieved more of our potential with Bobby in the family.

Bobby gently made his way into my heart as he imbued our house with his spirit and his stories. His stories. Every time I think of Bobby my first thought is always him sitting at our dinner table telling tales that seem better fit for the pages of an epic novel rather than the recollections of this man sitting across the table from me, eating spaghetti with his salad on top.

Over the many years, I heard many of the same stories, but they were never the same twice, teaching me that facts should quickly be abandoned for the sake of inspiration, humour, or memorableness.

My favourite was the one where he was walking the streets of Guyana when a boy snatched his briefcase and ran off. A young man stopped the boy and returned the briefcase to Bobby. The man turned out to be a former student of Bobby’s who had admired him as a teacher. He told Bobby he was the boss of this gang of thieving boys. Bobby couldn’t believe his ears – he had been a bright student. The man then asked if he could come over to Bobby’s house to meet his wife and children. Bobby wasn’t so sure he should invite a thief home, but the man surprised him with his rationale: “Well, I need to know what they look like so that my boys never steel from them.”

Sometime later, the man asked Bobby to write a reference letter for his visa application to go to the US. Forever the diplomat who understood how the truth can deceive, Bobby wrote the letter, stating the man ‘got along well with children, had good leadership skills, and picked up things easily.’

Many years later, the student showed up unexpectedly at Bobby’s office when he was high commissioner. He was dressed in a suit. Because of his letter, the student went to the US, and was now a professor and wanted to thank him. Dumbfounded, Bobby asked "What are you teaching? ... "Criminology," he answered.

No matter how sour you are in your teenage years, no one can resist the charm of this story and the many others he told. I began to see that he was teaching me history, sociology, development studies, politics. Like his students, I was treated to his approach of teaching from the ground up – tell the stories of the hypocrisy, contradictions, and sexual scandals of people from the time to make history real, human and something worth caring about. He taught many to change the way they look at the world and approach it through the lens of creativity, compassion, and humour. I admired him deeply for sharing this gift with so many around the world and will forever be grateful he shared it with me.

And just like that, I loved him.

And so did my family. My mother has stayed close with my father’s side of the family and Bobby quickly became part of the clan too. And my brother and I got to extend our love to Fauzya, James, Rayad, Lilah, Ingrid and Michael. I feel very lucky to be surrounded by so many role models on how to love. My extended family’s love for Bobby, my father’s love for my step-mother, my brother’s love for my sister-in-law, my partner’s love for his ex-wife. We are all embodying Bobby’s belief in the human capacity to love no matter what the social context or historical background.

Looking at the long list of Bobby’s accomplishments in his life, It`s not hard for me to pick his most important: his relationship with my mother. All of those awards, degrees, honours pale in comparison with the achievement of making my mother happy. Truly happy. He gave her the gift of loving herself as she is, as we all know she deserves to be loved. And she gave him the gift of her vibrant energy, of embracing the silliness that too many of us lose as we age, and of cats. He is no doubt cuddling in a fur pile with Charlie, Priscilla Louise, and Ivory right now.

In his last five months, I have also been witness to the most incredible power of love. My mother embarked on the difficult journey of caring for her soul mate at home. She could not have done it without the incredible support and love from the friends and family that offered food and comfort, checked up on her sanity, helped with the care of Bobby, and stood by singing while Bobby passed away in her arms with Ebony on his lap. I`d like to send out a special recognition to my cousin James. Without his help, Bobby would not have been able to be at home with his cats, his trees and the love that sustains him. Love is more than a nice feeling, it nourishes us and is essential for our daily survival.

I’d like to conclude with another reading, this time from Bobby’s absolute favourite author and thinker and companion, Barbara MacDonald Moore. Please feel free to follow along on your programs.

Think of Bobby as living in the hearts and minds of those he taught, those he inspired and those he loved.
Hear the rhythm of his voice near ocean waves, rustling forests and purring kittens.
Smile as you recall the amusing anecdotes and aphorisms that challenged us to be practical visionaries.
Never forget that “there are no little people, just people who do not know how big they are.”

Goodbye dad. I love you.