Saying Goodbye to a Giant

On August 17, 2019 my Father died.  My world will never be the same.  The one man in all the universe that loved me and my siblings with his whole heart, his whole soul and his whole mind would not call me early on Saturday morning ever again.

All the days of my life, since the day I was born he loved and cherished me.  There was nothing my Dad wouldn't do for me.  His love is/was all-encompassing.  No matter what I did there he was.

Donald Mosby was born on August 31, 1930 and it was the luckiest day of my life.  The many lessons he taught me through word and deed will live on in me forever. He has never let me down.


Life was an adventure, and he led us merrily along.  His intelligence, tenicity, pride and loyalty were evident in everything he said and everything he did.  My Daddy wasn't a paragon, he is what paragons aspire to.

He introduced us to Black American culture, horses and social justice.  There are so many stories I could tell, but I won't.  Know that he was passionate, involved and interested in his children's lives.

There were times when we disagreed, but never with rancor.  His sense of fairplay would not alow him to degrade or belittle us.  He was our warrior sans armor, our port in the storm, the rock we could cling to.

I could fill pages with his accomplishments, but the bottom lines is, he loved us and showed it.

Donald was a many of many talents, journalist, radio personality, professor, photographer.  Yet where his star shined brightest was his role as father.

His support was strong and unwavering.  There was no obstacle he would not overcome for his children. I am more than fortunate that he was my Dad.

Once he came and got me released from high school so that I could ride to Milwaukee with him and meet Golda Meir...who does that?

Thanks in a large part to him, my life has been rich and full.  He'd drag us all over the tr-state area to give us something interesting and new to look at or learn.  We spent countless hours at the original DuSable Museum on 38th and Michigan because he and Margaret Burrows were homies.

His love was evident in everything he said and did.  The look on his face when he first held my son is etched in my memory.

His mind was ever evolving and by extension so was ours.   There was no battle too dangerous, no cause too dire that would prevent him from coming to our aid.

No, of course he was not perfect..perfection does not exist, but he was the best father I could have wished for.

My Daddy was a jack of all trades and a master of many of them.  I wished I had listened to him when he tried to get me interested in photography as a teenager, but that is another story for another time.

This time I wish to praise and celebrate the man that loved me, helped to mold me and has never forsaken me, no matter hard I tried to make him.

Daddy forgave me all my transgressions and welcomed me back with open arms.  He taught me the virtues of grace and acceptance.

When I was wrong he would tell me, then show me how to fix it.

No man was ever good enough for Donald's daughters.  His protective nature saved us a lot of heartache.  But when my 'right man' came along, Daddy became his loudest cheerleader.

Educator, activist, warrior...Donald was all of those and even more.  A staunch believer in right and wrong he made sure we knew the difference.

Donald instilled a sense of patriotism, pride in our blackness and a loud voice in protest of injustice.

My Father was a lover of art, poetry and all things beautiful.  His taste in music, food and wine were impeccable.  Once, after Dad had been unemployed for a while, when he landed his next job we had steak for dinner everyday for a year.

Warrior, father friend...life is gonna be hard without you.  I knew I could not have you forever, but I was not ready to give you up right now. Rest in peace and power and rest well in the knowledge that your legacy will live on forever.  Thank you.