Time has covered you but not my memory of you.
You grew up in a palmetto shack, common, illiterate, with French as a first language. Abuse a way of life.
Time has covered abuse with love. Your love, Papa. Your love of mama and us changed all for you and us. Your love got the house on land and the big boat. All you had was a pirogue and a “fish cart” and you grew it big.
Time has covered all that you built but not what you taught us. Respect for all no mater the color of their skin. “Until you walk in their moccasins, you don’t know.” You always said.
Time has covered it all but not your gene-pool. Your grandchildren stands on your shoulders papa… I ran from the killing; not from you .I ran from the wet piercing cold; the blood smell, not from you. I ran to fulfill the Dream-pool, not from you. Death its’ self has not and never will break our bond.
In loving memory of
Julian Justin Sons Sr.
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