Sunday afternoon, like most afternoons, was our play period; bed bouncing, hide and seek, you name it.
Though we often got in trouble (especially on Sunday, the day of rest) we could not resist the urge to play.
I always had fun with my seven and four-year-old siblings.
This Sunday was a little different though. Mommy kept looking out the window and we soon joined her near the brown chair that we would jump on to welcome daddy home from one of his long boat trips.
She kept saying, "Lord, bring my husband home; Lord, bring my husband home."
We spent most of that evening near that chair, mommy not saying anything and we not asking, just knowing mommy wanted daddy to come home.
Much, much later, I found out that the day before, the "boat" my father was on was bombed by people called Cubans and that they (Bahamians) were not sure where they (my daddy and his friends) were. It was all quite confusing for a six-year-old.
It was getting darker, and my mommy was still standing there, looking out the window and repeating the same words.
What's that? I think I saw something -- someone. The driveway was so long with a rise it seemed forever for the shape to get closer.
"Daddy come, daddy come, daddy come!"
We were jumping, we were chanting, we were prancing and mommy was crying.
When he finally got in the house, daddy was hugging us and we were hugging him back, happy to have him home again.
It took many years before I pieced it all together. My father never spoke to us about "the incident", as I guess he was trying to save us from the trauma of it all.
Four of his comrades were lost at sea, two of whom were his close friends, Fenrick Sturrup and David Tucker.
My brother, who was born later that year, was named after them and continues to keep their legacy alive.
They would be proud of him. Fenrick David James is a gentleman who is loved by all; he is a graduate of the University of Indianapolis, he is married and works as a computer analyst and consultant.
For years, I became "Detective Colombo", trying to piece together what really happened on the evening of
Saturday 10, May, 1980.
Since I wasn't sure I could talk to daddy about it, I would listen eagerly whenever he talked to others about it.
At a Sunday service at our church, I remember daddy telling the congregation that while he was in the water he repeated Psalm 23 throughout the ordeal: "The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want...yea though I walk through the valley and the shadow of death I shall fear no evil for thou art with me".
I get teary-eyed every time I think of it because I know this powerful Psalm is what kept my daddy brave and safe.
A friend came by years later and brought my father a framed painting commemorating the sinking of the HMBS Flamingo and there was a little reminiscing of the events of that day.
I understood that my father got a purple heart for bravery and the tragedy is still something that weighs on his heart, particularly during the anniversary.
For years, my father wrote articles to the newspaper to keep this day in the public consciousness so that we would never forget the 'brave souls' who represented this country from The Royal Bahamas Defence Force.
My mommy told me recently that my father had devotions with some of his comrades the morning of the bombing; Fenrick and David were there and when they were lost he consoled himself with this last memory.
About three years ago, I asked my daddy to tell me what the experience was like on the ill-fated day and now understand why he protected us from it.
I still today have the images of them being attacked even after the sinking and using a cigarette lighter to read a compass while on Ragged Island as Cuban troops flew above their heads. What did they do to deserve this? Our men were just doing their jobs.
I believe it is this tragedy and others that have molded and shaped who my father is today.
At about three-months-old, his father died in a tragic fire and his only brother died tragically in a car accident in 1992 in Grand Bahama.
This is probably why my father has spent his life 'saving lives' and giving focus and direction to all with whom he comes in contact.
Maybe it is his way of saying to God, "I will make the fact that I lived through the events of May 10, 1980 count".
My father is my hero and has always been.
However, as I get older, I am so thankful that he remained focused on being an excellent husband and father and most of all the best human being he could be.
Statistically -- based on these tragedies -- he should be dysfunctional and so should his children. Remember, there were no psychologists who converged on the survivors and their families and I sure hope this attention was given to the families of their 'brothers' who were lost at sea.
I always think of the families of the four men -- Marine Seaman Austin Smith, Marine Seaman Edward Williams, Marine Seaman David Tucker and Able Seaman Fenrick Sturrup.
When I think of them, I often regret that all 19 seaman could not make it home. I also pray that God keeps their families and that they live every day knowing that their loved ones remain in our hearts and minds.
On December 22, 2012 my father Peterson James walked me down the aisle. This was a very exciting and emotional day for both of us.
As he held me by the hand and counted each step (military style of course) and I approached my husband (to be) I could not help but think I am oh so happy that my father made it home.
Force Chief Petty Officer Peterson James retired from the Defence Force in 1994 and now resides in Armstrong Bay, Abaco, with his wife of 40 years Louisa (Saunders) James.
His children Peterson Jr., Patricia, Vanessa, Hector, Abagail, Matthew, Fenrick and Katherine are all nation builders.
He is a motivational speaker who is a member of Full Gospel Assembly.
He volunteers at Camp Abaco and S. C. Bottle High School.
P. Dexter James, or Bro. James as he is known by Abaconians, is well respected in the North Abaco Community.
At 61, he still takes weekly 80-mile rides on his bicycle, enjoys an occasional motorbike ride, unicycle ride or a nine-mile brisk walk.
His greatest joy, however, is just being a papa to his grandchildren Brianna, Matthew James, Noel and Devon and creating great memories.

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