The following is an as-told-to remembrance of Fitzroy "Bunny Diamond" Simpson, who rose to fame in the GRAMMY-nominated Jamaican roots reggae group Mighty Diamonds in the early 1970s and continued into the early 2020s. This transcript has been edited for clarity.

As a child growing up, I used to go to a lot of his shows with him. Most of the time, he'd go for six months and stuff, on tour. Those times, he was away; we were home. But when he was doing local shows and stuff, he'd take me and my sister Ronece with him. Boys usually stay home; the girls get to go.

They were outdoors, on the beach and stuff. Sometimes, they used to have them at the movie theater. They were informal, because he grew up in [Kingston neighborhood] Trenchtown as a boy — where Bob Marley and [other major musicians] grew up. Trenchtown was a ghetto area; a rough area. So, he moved out after he started to have kids and stuff; I'm the first child.

Most of the time, when they would rehearse, sometimes it would be in the backyard — playing their guitars and stuff like that. They would come together and write music, then improvise from that in the studio. He played a song and usually asked me if I liked it. Usually, when I would dance to the music, he knew that song was going to be a hit.

First, it was "Right Time" back in '76. And then, you had "I Need a Roof." Later on came "Pass the Kouchie." Then, you had "Identity." You had "Shame and Pride." It was quite a few songs back to back that they had coming. "Pass the Kouchie" was one of the songs that Musical Youth sung over; they sang "dutchie" instead of "kouchie."

Lord, he was funny. He was. He was a storyteller. He used to tell us a lot of stories, and he had a nickname for everyone. He used to watch a lot of comedies and stuff like that, so he was more like a chatterbox. Once you were around him, you were laughing. Everyone loved to be around him because he was peaceful and didn't like to be around anything too rowdy.

He was a loving person; you could reason with him about anything. He would tell you things to do; encourage you — then you knew what route to take and stuff like that. [His late Mighty Diamonds bandmate] Tabby was a more quiet person, apart from his music, and getting together with friends sometimes and singing and dancing. But he was more chilled. He was also very peaceful.

The Mighty Diamonds are still out there on the map, because a lot of people love their music. It's like their music never dies, because of the type of music that they sing. They live on forever. You can listen to it over and over. You see people dancing and singing; sometimes you hear someone playing the music in their car, or just on the street playing them on the sound.

I was back home in December, and anywhere you went, you heard the music. You're always going to hear it in the party or the club — anywhere you go. You just get a vibe every time you play that music.

He was very sheltered when it came down to me. He was like, You're a girl, and based on what I see out there, I don't want you to get involved in the music industry.He used to tell us the stories, and he was like: Ah, I don't think that's for you.

In 2015, he had a little minor stroke, and then in 2017, that's when he got the major one. That was what kind of held him down. And with that, he was diabetic and stuff. When he got that major stroke, he made a huge recovery. He was still performing [up until then]. [The Mighty Diamonds] stuck together for almost 50 years.

He still wanted to do music. I was like, No way! You have this time for you to relax. So, it was just the other two doing their music. We still played the music around him; it gave him so much strength. Even though he was sick, if you called him on the phone, you were talking to someone that is not sick. Because there comes a joke; there comes a story.

[When he died, my sister] wanted me to see what was happening [in person], because she didn't want me to see it on social media. It still bothers me; the other day, I had a breakdown. But I'm so happy that before it happened, I had gone down and spent some time with him — and we had a good laugh with him. Sometimes, in the moment, I play his music to get some comfort.

My last happy memory [of him] is when I gave my surprise. He didn't know I was going to visit him. My sister didn't say anything; she just let us keep the secret. I was standing behind the door. He was sitting in the living area. He wanted to go lay down, and they were like, "No, no, no, just wait a few more minutes!" And then my sister said, "I have a surprise for you."

He was so happy to see me; he grabbed my hand and started laughing. And right away, he began telling me a story.

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