Fathers in different seasons - Separated by nearly 70 years, two dads share the same commitment to family

One has lived 106 years, most of that as a father, watching Jamaica, his family and generations of children grow around him through joy, hardship and loss.

The other is just 37, still learning fatherhood in real time, raising three children on his own, including a daughter with autism, while trying to stay ahead of life's daily demands.

Yet despite the nearly seven decades between them, Henry Bent and Domane Tulloch share the same responsibility: showing up for their children, even when the burden is heavy.

For Bent, fatherhood now lives in memory, legacy and reflection. For Tulloch, it unfolds day by day through sacrifice, uncertainty and perseverance.

In different stages of life, they arrive at the same truth: fatherhood does not soften with age, nor simplify with experience. It simply changes form.

At 106 years old, Henry Bent moves slowly with the aid of a cane. He celebrated his birthday on June 13.

He is mostly pleasant but strongly dislikes change, especially when familiar things, like his favourite cup, are moved from where he expects to find them.

His memory remains remarkably sharp in places. While dates sometimes escape him, names and places from decades ago come easily. He often speaks of people long dead as though they are still present.

Except for hearing and vision problems and persistent foot pain that makes standing difficult, relatives say Bent is still “fit as a fiddle”.

Last Thursday, he effortlessly reeled off names and places while recalling a childhood shaped by struggle after losing his mother at an early age.

He became a father at 17 and spent much of his life doing whatever work was necessary to provide for his family – selling ice cream, farming and raising livestock, among other jobs.

“Things were much harder then, but people were happier,” he reflected between long pauses as he gathered his thoughts.

Now, his days are quieter, spent mostly eating, resting and talking with relatives. His live-in caregiver, Monica Bailey, is never far away.

But among the many memories he carries, one remains especially painful.

One of his sons, Corporal Vincent Bent of the Jamaica Constabulary Force, died in 2010 while pursuing armed men during a police operation in St Catherine. The tragedy left a permanent scar on the family and later brought national recognition for the fallen policeman.

For the elderly Bent, however, the loss is not measured by awards or honours.

It is measured in absence.

Vincent was his youngest child.

The centenarian rarely speaks at length about the tragedy and avoids the area where his son was laid to rest. And when the conversation turned to Vincent, the grief that has accompanied him for 16 years surfaced almost immediately.

“Where him buried out at Church Pen, me can’t go back there because if me go there me feel like me a go drop down,” Bent said last week.

“He looked after me so much. Him dead a run down criminal inna Rio Cobre and dropped inna deep water and drowned."

Moments later, tears filled the elderly father’s eyes.

“Eye water drop outta my eye. The way how him look after me good, me can’t take it. Me can’t take it. Him would come check me all the while. All the while him come check me.”

As he wept, his granddaughter Julie Bent, Vincent’s eldest child, wrapped her arms around him.

The display of emotion stunned her.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen him express that level of emotion, and it tells you about the person he is,” she said.

For Julie, Father’s Day has long been complicated by the loss of her own father. Yet she credits her grandfather for helping to fill part of that void.

“This is the home I grew up in. Anything I wanted, I could call him. Even though he was in his 80s at the time, he would still leave what he was doing and come to me.”

She believes the values he passed on to his children helped shape the family that surrounds him today.

“We are here because he paved the way for our parents. He was such a good father to his children and that legacy passed on,” she told The Sunday Gleaner.

Then, thinking about another Father’s Day without Vincent, she sighed.

“Time doesn’t heal wounds, but it teaches you to cope. At least I have a grandfather I can bounce back on. How many people can say that?”

Miles away in Portmore, St Catherine, fatherhood looks very different for Domane Tulloch.

He was waiting for the school bus to collect his 14-year-old daughter, Aliana, when The Sunday Gleaner asked about Father’s Day plans.

He laughed at the question.

Aliana was born with autism and faces communication challenges, among other developmental needs. For Tulloch, celebrations take a back seat to responsibility.

Today, like most days, his focus is on ensuring his children – ages 17, 14 and 13 – have what they need.

Transportation and meals for Aliana alone cost about $10,000 each week, he said.

And that is only part of the family’s expenses.

The meat cutter supplements his income by repairing cellular phones and cutting lawns, but making ends meet remains a constant challenge.

“You see the boys, it depends on how my pocket stays. Sometimes I can give them $1,000, sometimes it might only be $500 for school,” he said.

He receives occasional support from his mother overseas. The children’s mother provides no assistance, he said.

Still, he pushes forward.

“I have to be strong in myself as a man because if I wasn’t, maybe you would walk past me on the road and not even know me. Or maybe I wouldn’t even be here,” Tulloch said.

He often reflects on his own father while raising his children.

“My father had two boys and one girl just like me, and to me, he never completed it as a father for me. So it is like I have to complete it for him.”

Then he paused before speaking about Aliana.

“But my mission with Aliana is way bigger.”

Now entering adolescence, his daughter presents challenges he admits he is still learning to navigate.

Yet, like Henry Bent decades before him, Tulloch rises each day to do what caring fathers have always done: carry responsibilities that few people see, make sacrifices that rarely attract attention, and keep showing up for the children who depend on them.

corey.robinson@gleanerjm.com