Valentine John Mitchell aka Knox

February 14th 1954 – September 10th, 2011

I often wondered how it’s possible to do a eulogy, a summary of a persons life in a few short paragraphs, a person, a living being who was so many things to so many different people. Husband, father, grandfather, brother, nephew, son, friend, colleague, lover. But I will attempt to do so now.

Valentine John Mitchell aka ‘Knox’ – My Daddy, was a man of unshakeable principle, responsible, disciplined and strong. Committed to family, easy to anger and easier to forgive.  A man who thought before he spoke and who always tried to do the right thing, even when it may not have been the popular choice. Firm and decisive, he showed his boys how to be men and his girls what to look for in a man, how to work hard to achieve our goals and how to take care of and value family. He taught that nothing came easy, but that by hard work and perseverance they could be achieved.

My father was if nothing else a hard and dedicated worker, in his chosen profession, that of an electrician, he was undoubtedly one of the best and many were proud to call him their dedicated electrical expert. No job was too small or too menial for him and he believed in the principle of ‘an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay’.

During one of his many travels in his famous ‘red taxi’ presumably to one of these jobs, Knox met and eventually married, Mrs. Hilary Paul, a woman blessed with a huge heart and a will strong enough to deal with his. A woman who would unstintingly rally with him through thick and thin, all the way to the very end when he took his last. They don’t make them like her anymore, for many would have thought the burden of his illness too much to bear, especially in his last days. Their union survived the test of time for twenty (20) years and produced four (4) children; Trisha, Troy, Trevor & Trevon. Knox fathered three (3) children before this union; Cleopatra, Macquiva and Hugan.

Towards us his children, he was strict and sometimes inflexible, leaving us to realize years later that that was only because he loved us and believed it was for our own good.  He had a special way of cherishing the things we did that were dear to him; he was not fond of outward displays of affection but rather would convey his approval by saving memoirs of the particular occasion like pictures, newspaper clippings, certificates and letters. He was fiercely proud of all his children and grandchildren, believing that no one was better than they were. Daddy corrected us mercilessly, always demanding the best; even now I can hear him say “Put your tongue between your teeth and say ‘THE’” on the many occasions we would slip into local parlance and day ‘de’.

To his friends and family members, he was unreservedly loyal, never finding it too hard to do anything. Anyone who knew him well knew that he was a smooth talker, a legacy from his father, Mr Vallan Mitchell aka ‘Survivor’ who preceded him from this life (RIP) , quick to make and maintain friendships and always willing to go the extra mile for a friend.

He loved the sea, and always espoused the healing and restorative power of an early morning bath and the eight movements of the arms to get the blood flowing. He was also a man who was firmly grounded in reality, for he understood, accepted and spoke openly of the fact that we are in fact born to die; one of his constant quotes was ‘Nothing in this life is sure, but death’, clear evidence that he was one who thought way beyond the everyday hum drum of life on this earth to life and living beyond the boundary. While not outwardly religious, Daddy would read his bible regularly, turning to it for solace through his trials and he could always be counted on to support his wife (mom) in her insistence that we go to Church regularly.

It is said that the true mettle of a man’s character can be determined by his response to adversity; taking that as truth, no clearer was this demonstrated than with my father. His final moments were a clear indication of the kind of man he was; he spent those last moments joking and laughing with my mom and the nurses at the hospital and then flew quietly into the hereafter; no frills, no fuss. This was to ensure that their final memories of him would be light and filled with laughter.
Daddy was a true fighter, stubborn some may say; for all through his illness, he refused to let it consume him and to lose hope, bouncing back time and time again, defying all odds. A legacy of resiliency and true faith in the Creator that we his children are proud to carry on to our own lives and families.

I will close with a quote from one of my brothers, which I believe sums up what we are all feeling…