The greatest lesson my dad taught me is how to be an Oyster

Jun 20, 2021 News

By Kiana Wilburg

It is impossible for a man to be the embodiment of our picture perfect ideals while taking on the world. He is, after all, only human. In spite of this obvious fact, fathers are expected to shield us from the combustion of our days, be punctual and present for the important moments of our lives while hiding the emotional wear and tear from the toxicity of life’s challenges, swallow their pride when betrayal and disappointment steal their joy, broaden their backs for the daily whippings of the world or worse yet, make way for the unkempt bushes of under-appreciation that sprouts from the actions or inactions of their loved ones.

My spirit animal, the Oyster.

They are also expected to make us laugh, tell us bedtime stories, be our superhero and nurture us with the divinity of their soul.
But even when most are able to do all of the above or even half of it, we still let fathers go on thinking that they aren’t as honoured, loved and respected as the mothers we place on high thrones.
It saddened me recently to hear a few of my colleagues sing this tune, “Nobody really cares about Father’s Day.” On Facebook, I even saw a few friends posting, sarcastically, “When is Father’s Day?”
Most of us have never really stopped to consider just how crucial the presence of a father is. Do we really consider the impact of his absence in families and the ripple effects nationally? Have we stopped to consider how a deeper sense of appreciation of fathers can enrich the role they play in the lives of their loved ones and society as a whole?
I’m moved to ask these questions based on the impact of my father, Robert Ovid Wilburg, in my life and that of others. From the day I was born, I have been and continue to be my father’s most prized possession as he would call me at times, his “pet project.”
Many moons ago, he had fallen in love with a young woman (Nicole Wade) and their relationship had led to my birth. My father had been travelling back and forth from the USA and he had two well-paying jobs which he used to save and support in conjunction with my mother.

My loving dad, Robert O. Wilburg.

When I was born, he had increased the weekly and monthly money he had sent to her from overseas for savings and my upkeep. That came at the sacrifice of working extra jobs and eating cheap meals. He was hopelessly in love.
In spite of his dedication and decision to stay in Guyana so that my mom would not be gripped by the pains of loneliness, as she had claimed, she still walked out on him months later and left me, barely a few months old, behind. My father was still happy, though broken hearted. He had me.
Since then, my father raised me singlehandedly. He was both biological mom and dad in my eyes.
I still have vivid memories of my father struggling to comb my hair during primary school days. He hadn’t a clue what he was doing. He would take a hard brush with lots of creamy hair product, gather the hair into his hands, and use a black shoe lace to keep everything in place. He did not understand the concept of pony holders. Following this, he would take about three red ribbons and bow it neatly so no one would know I had a black shoe lace in my head. I was always the girl at Sacred Heart Primary who wore lots of ribbons.
Little does my father know those are memories I cherish to this day. The way he struggled to be a mom for me still makes my heart smile.
I can also recall my father on several occasions, going without breakfast and lunch to ensure many days I had more than I needed to eat for school.
My father did not have much financially while raising me but with the little he had, life for us was happy.
It was also a life that carried with it some of the most valuable lessons. Like the importance of balancing contentment and ambition; knowing the true meaning of sharing; and perhaps the most underrated life lesson—taking time to understand the people around us.
Being an educator for approximately 40 years, I watched my father take deep pride in understanding students, assessing their strengths and weaknesses, and tweaking his teaching strategy to ensure their optimised success. It’s become a science for him; a methodology that I watched him develop over the years with much reverence. It has given me absolute confidence in the learning techniques I intend to employ with my own children some day; techniques I will be proud to tell them was passed down to me by their granddad.
But the number one life skill passed on to me by dad, is how to be an Oyster. Anytime I complain about being in a difficult situation, I can always count on him to tell me the story of how the Oyster turns sand or any foreign substance that causes an irritation into pearls. My father does not believe in pity parties and he has never indulged me in one.
Like most father-daughter relationships, we do have our difference of opinions. Some resolved, others still awaiting a date for retrial. But another thing is also sure; I can always count on him to remind me that “we can agree to disagree without becoming disagreeable.”
On this Father’s Day, and many others to come, it is my fervent hope that my papa knows with his mind and soul, how much I love and cherish his priceless contributions to the woman, or rather, Oyster I am today.
I trust as well, that my friends and relatives will do their part in making the dads they know feel even more appreciated, as they well deserve.
Happy Father’s Day to all the amazing dads, step-dads and father figures out there today!