My Father

Life is a very unpredictable event, nothing is guaranteed.  Much of my childhood, I don’t remember.  Sometimes looking at pictures and reminiscing will bring memories back.  The day I was born, I almost died.  From what I was told, I was born with pneumonia.  And although the experts may say it’s impossible, I believe strongly that I remember being in the incubator.  And I remember being held up in the hospital window, and seeing my siblings down below in the parking area, waving up!  Could I really remember that?  I believe so.  Well, looking back at pictures of myself when I was very small up until about the age of nine or so, I seemed to be very close with my father.  There are many pictures of us where I am sitting on his lap or snuggling next to him.  So, I was obviously daddy’s little girl.  At or around the age of two, I was told my cousin Dana dropped me on my head while giving me a bath.  And that injury resulted in my developing epilepsy.  A disease that at the time, the doctors didn’t know much about.  This had a profound affect on my father, who blamed himself.  And made for a scary childhood for me.  The type of seizures I would have were called petite-maul,  which basically I would “zone out”.  You would have to know I was sick, to know I was having a seizure.  I almost died a few times because of it.  So, what do I remember about my father?  I remember his strength.  I remember that when I was young, I felt safe.  And I remember his temper, brought on by alcohol.  Our family was not even close to being perfect.  There was much that went on, that was not to be discussed.  I must have idolized my father at one time, but that all changed.  I noticed that my mom had a black eye, and she told me she got it from the door.  Even as a young child, I didn’t believe it.  But before that, I had never seen my father be violent.  Kids don’t always know what goes on between their parents.  Time went by, and my parents didn’t hide things anymore.  And I clung to my mother in her defense.  Despite all of it, I always knew my dad would be there anytime I needed him.  He worked very hard to provide for his family, doing whatever to get extra income into the home.  And my mom was more than happy to frivolously spend the money and complain the whole time.  In my early twenties, I was still living at home.  I had become the caretaker to my parents, helping to support them and to ensure they didn’t kill one another.  But, I was quickly growing tired of it.  One day, my father and I exploded into a heated fight.  I don’t even know what it was about.  Growing up, my mother always punished me, my father never did punish me like my other siblings.  Well, my father and I got into a physical fight.  It was ridiculous, but free-ing at the same time.  You would think it would be great to be the “special” child, the one to never be beat by your father, but it’s not.  It leaves you feeling a lot of guilt and in a weird way makes you feel unloved.  It wasn’t too long after that, when I started looking for a place of my own, content to let my parents self destruct without me.  Thankfully, God saw fit to send me my soul mate!  After moving out, things changed.  My father started coming by often to visit, sometimes without my mom.  He was very supportive of my relationship, although my mom hated my being happy with my mate.  And as my mate and father developed a relationship, I got to see my father, not through the eyes of a child, but as a grown up.  My father is not perfect, nor am I.  I believe he raised us kids the best he knew how.  And I know my dad has a lot of regret he lives with.  But, I have learned so much from him and I am thankful to my mate for helping me to cultivate the relationship I now have with my father.  He will be 76 years old this year.  Still a force to be reckoned with, not someone you’d want to encounter in a dark alley if you were up to no good.  The best part of me came from my father.  I’ve watched him struggle in life and never let illness or worry get him down.  I see strength in him, not only physical but strength of character.  Despite my fathers faults, he has always been a man of his word.  I see determination, again he was one who has never given up! And I see this glimmer in his eye when he looks at me, believing in me that I can do anything I set my heart and mind to.  He’s always believed in my talent for art, writing and believed I was smart enough to do anything.  All he’s ever wanted was my happiness!  I think that’s the greatest gift, for someone to just love you and accept you as you are, and that is a gift my father has freely given to me.  I still want to make him proud! I want my business to be a success.  I want to give him a grandchild, so much it rips my heart out!  I want to be a published writer and be able to put his name, along with others in the dedication.  I will always strive to do better, and to never give up!  I am blessed.


~ by destiny2b on June 18, 2011.

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