When I was about 3 or so years old, I witnessed a neighbor, who was much older than I was, became ignited from a strong rum (alcohol) related fire. The young man was Wayne Roberts; unfortunately, Wayne later die. When the incident happened, a distinct voice told me to run, at the time, I did not know, who told me to run; however, I followed the instruction and I ran. Immediately, after I began running, I heard an explosion and moments later, I forgot the details of the event. The memory of that event eventually left my mind totally. However, last year (2016), the memory of that event came back to me. I remember being questioned by two police officers. I was also taken back to the scene of the incident, which was just across the street from where I lived, Unfortunately; at the time I was of little help. I honestly could not remember what happened even though it was a moment ago.
I vaguely remembered overhearing my mother, who was an extremely spiritual woman said: I think God have blocked his (my) memory, to protect him (me) from the trauma of what he witnessed. I get the impression that I was to be ignited in that fire also; but it was the protective hands of Yahweh that covered me then and is covering me now. When Wayne was being buried, I wanted to know what was happening and what was going to happened to my friend Wayne, However, under the circumstances, my mother did not think, it was a good idea for me to be seen. after all there were many unanswered question and most people thought I had the answer. However, there was someone else who had the answers, but no one knew of that person. So Mother kept me inside and allowed me to peep through the window hidden by the curtain as she explained to me what was going on. You see that little coffin; she said, Wayne is in it. That is what happened to people when they die. she explained.
Mr. Roberts took the death of his son very hard; as a result, this event put a strain on the good relationship between Mr. Roberts and My father. Mr. Roberts though I was responsible and therefore he blamed me for the death of his son, at lease that was what I came to believed. My father on the other hand; could not understand how a 3 year old child could be responsible for the death of a 12 years old. The circumstances surrounding Wayne’s death was never talked about by neither family again.
I can remember clearly, one day, I was in my father’s shop with my father, and I said daddy, I am going over to Mr. Roberts shop to see Mr. Roberts. Enthusiastically I bounced over to Mr. Roberts Shop; I walked into the shop as I always did, and proceeded to go to where Mr. Roberts normally sits. Before the death of his son, it was always a joy for Mr. Roberts when I visit him. He will put me on his knees and asked me question, he will also give me little treats, he will asked me things like, what Mother ( Mother was what we called out mother) cooked today, and why I did not bring him some food; just small talk that a child could engaged in. Sometimes Mr. Roberts will send me upstairs to see Mr. Roberts who will always welcome me.
However this time, Mr. Roberts was not happy to see me, He looked at me with eyes I have never seen before, and in one motion; with pointed index finger, he swung his right hand over to his left shoulder, making an arc bringing his hand and arm down in front of him, then up to just above shoulder level and pointed me back where I came from, he also uttered some words with a very stern voice. I became frightened and I quickly make an about turn and I left, Mr. Roberts Shop, never to return. My father: Hamilton, was sitting on his bench at the door of his shop, and as I made my way across the street, my father recognized something was wrong with me; he called me to him and asked me what happened; I explained what happened to him. My father put his arms around me, and he said to me; don’t worry, Mr. Roberts is still upset because of Wayne's death. He is still angry; he did not really mean it. Everything will be back to normal soon. the comforting words of my father put me at ease.
That was the last time, I ever felt comfortable going into Mr. Roberts shop. I could remember, some years later, I was attending primary school. I was walking home from school as I normally did. Mr. Roberts was standing inform of his shop, I said good afternoon to Mr. Roberts as I always did when I pass him to and from school. It was then Mr. Roberts said; Pearson, how come you don’t come over to chat with me anymore. I went by to see Mr. Roberts in his shop a few times as I did before the incident that took Wayne's Life; but it was not the same, everything was different. Mr. Roberts shop became very gloomy and I became extremely, uncomfortable being in his shop; a discomfort that came after Mr. Roberts, in a quiet anger; marched me out of his shop. On hindsight, I think it was the sadness I sensed Mr. Roberts was still experiencing at the loss of his youngest son. I know Mr. Roberts made a tremendous effort and many years later, he was still burden with the sadness and as much as he tried, it was difficult for him to be to me the friend we were before the death of his son..
This tragedy may have been the motivating factor that led Mr. Roberts to build another house, a few miles away and move out of his home in the area, and in which his business also was house on the ground floor. May be, It was an opportunity to get away from the place which holds the bad memory of his son’s tragic death.
Apart from the relationship between Mr. Roberts and my Father Hamilton; another thing that suffered was the beautiful relationship between my mother and Mrs. Roberts. From my memory, Mr. Robert’s wife and my mother were very close and did a lot of things together. Mrs. Roberts was more understanding of the circumstances, surrounding Wayne’s tragic death than her husband was. The wife of the two business men and ex-good friends, had to ignore each other, until they were out of the sight of their husbands. However; they were able to overcome the effects of the incident with less damage to their friendship than that of there husbands were. And even the tragic nature of the lost, it did not greatly affect their friendship. I will also say this, Wayne's death was also a lost to my mother, because she was fun of all of the Roberts children. Paul, Patsy, of the other children of the Roberts were closest in age with me and I had become very close and remain close up to today. I must say it had been a while since I have seen both of them.
Back then Mr. Roberts who was still overcome with grief, could not understand how his wife could be so forgiving of me, and my parents. Now that I thought of it; I can never remembered, every having a negative or a bad experience interacting with Mrs. Roberts, there was never a time that Mrs. Roberts behavior and or attitude towards me and or the way she treated me had ever changes. She treated me with the same level of love and appreciation as she did before the tragic incident that took the life of her beloved son Wayne.
Later when, I became a Cadet and later a police officer, Mr. Roberts appreciated it when I visited him in his shop. my visit was never long, but I will often pop into his shop especially when I was in uniform, just to say hi and to find out how he was doing. There was still a strain in his relationship with me but he had come a long way, to the point where I felt a pride he exhibited in me. Today, being a father, I can understand what Mr. Roberts was going through and I can now appreciate the tremendous effort he made over many years to overcome his resentment towards me; a resentment as a kid I did not understood but a resentment that I could now understand. The loss of a beloved child is a terrible thing to experience; especially, if that death is not fully understood.
this is how the whole story began:
I cannot remember the actual period in history, this incident occurred, however I know I was about three years old; Wayne Mr. Roberts son was about nine years older that I was. He treated me like I was his little brother. He always unselfishly shared his stuff with me, and we will play together most of the time. I walked in and out of the Roberts’ shop and home freely. Wayne and I often played in Mr. Roberts Storeroom. We will climb on top of the mountains that were created by the sacks of Sugar, flour and rice. Mr. Roberts did not mind us playing in his storeroom as long as we did not jump around on the flour, for the main purpose; the flower came in white bags, and the material the flower bags were made from a less durable material; which may rip at the seam.
Mr. Roberts was primarily a wholesaler who offered basic stuff at retail; therefore a burst bag of any product was of no good to him. One day Mr. Roberts was doing his inventory, he had on his reading glasses, and he was sitting by his desk in his shop, where he sits when he is doing serious work or don’t want to be disturbed. Wayne and I were in his shop just doing nothing. It was then Mr. Roberts call Wayne, at that time, when Wayne was summoned I was summoned also. Mr. Roberts send Wayne to check the level on the barrels of rum which he kept in this garage. The exact assignment was to see how many full barrels of rum and how many of the rum barrels were empty. After we did that he (Mr. Roberts) sent us back to check the level of the barrel of rum that was in use.
There was a third person present when we were checking the level of the barrel of rum that was in use. Wayne tried, I also tried but it was too dark to see anything in the barrel. We knew there was rum in the barrel for we could feel the movement of liquid when we shake the barrel. It was then that the third person who was present, who will remain nameless; suggested that Wayne use matches to check the level. When he was about to check the barrel using the matches, Wayne told me to stand away from the barrel. So I followed his instruction. Suddenly I heard a voice instructing me to run. So I run in the direction of my home. While I was in the process of running away, I was barely out of the Garage, where we were checking the Barrels, when I heard a loud bang that is of an explosion.
That bang was the explosion that killed Wayne Roberts, The last time I saw Wayne was just before he checked the barrel for the last time.
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