Cloyd

I don’t know how to write this today.  Just yesterday I wrote that my dad was improving and strong; today he passed out, could not be resuscitated and died shortly before 12:30 ECT/EDT.  We are all reeling in shock.  It seems that this morning he woke as usual, had his breakfast, followed his morning routine and then just… stopped.  My sister called for an ambulance which arrived quickly (We’re essentially across the street from the hospital) and they tried reviving him; he was rushed straight in on arrival, where they continued to work on him for over half an hour, but he never revived.  My siblings who were there were texting throughout so that we (in Canada) were kept updated.  They showed us his body after everything was over, and he looks peaceful.  Thankfully, he experienced no pain or discomfort, just fell into unconsciousness.  He’s been moved from the hospital morgue to the funeral home while we try to settle on his final arrangements.  It’s so surreal; he was arguing and protesting having to follow instructions, and then — nothing.

Cloyd Crosby was born August 1, 1934 to Mercy Roberts and Thomas Crosby, the eldest of 12 children.  He had a difficult childhood, as his mother didn’t have much money and a very large family.  All of his siblings looked up to him — he was the big brother, the rock, the support of the family.  He married young, shortly after the death of his mother, and his first marriage produced 4 children — 3 boys and 1 girl.  His wife died not long afterwards, and he met and fell head over heels (his words) with my mother.  They married and had 3 girls and 1 boy and our family largely was raised as a single unit, despite the age range.  He attended school at Bishop Anstey High School in Tobago, later won a scholarship to study in the UK (Literature and Geography were his great interests.)  He later trained as a teacher, and taught for many years before becoming a school superintendent (side note:  you do not want your dad as your school’s district superintendent!  He knows too much about your school life!)  He worked his way up to Director of School Supervision, and his last week at work was my first week at the Ministry of Education, where I was often told I had large shoes to fill.

I remember that my bedtime stories from him were Shakespeare, or poems from Shelley, Tennyson, Browning.  We used to play games to identify various pieces of classical music that he would whistle for us.  He had a lifelong love of learning, reading (Westerns, especially, were his entertainment); of fishing, boating, being on the sea — all of which he shared with us.  He encouraged us to learn, to try new things, to explore the world.  It was never a question of “if” we’d pursue higher education, but “when.”  He asked questions, and urged us to do the same.  He was loved and respected as a teacher, being called “Cowboy X, the man who left his mark everywhere” by his students.

His friends all said that he was one of the best, truest, most honourable men they knew.  One said that my father would be fair, generous and kind, helping others and not asking for much in return.  He loved watching cricket — and would have the game on TV and the commentary on the radio (he said that the radio commentators were better)  He and his posse would frequent the Oval to watch games live, leaving early in the day and returning late at night.  I also remember his fishing trips with many of his friends — they’d leave home at 3am and be back by mid morning, often with a large catch!  We’ve got many memories of being out on his boat the Yuk Fu on many weekends!

This is just a tiny glimpse of my dad.  There’s so much more to tell about him, his laughs, his sessions of entertaining, his role as a family man… So many things.  I’ve often been called a “daddy’s girl” and I’m not in the least bit ashamed of that.  He leaves behind his 8 children, 15 grandchildren and I’ve lost count of great-grandchildren!  He’s predeceased by his wives Rowena and Lydia, his parents Mercy and Thomas and several of his siblings.  His great joy in the last 18 years has been his granddaughter Sofiah, who occupied the centre of all his thoughts.  It’s an understatement to say that he will be missed.  We don’t yet know when the funeral will be held, but I’ll be sure to let everyone know, and those who would like may view the livestream.

Good night.