My Father's Dreams

For my father.

He is truly the light of my life, my son, and as I run him from one place to the next; soccer, football, dance, theatre, piano lessons, guitar lessons, drum lessons, and more, I am reminded of everything he, my father, has done for me.

How he enrolled me in swimming, so I wouldn’t drown, karate and taekwondo so no one would pick on the lone black girl at school, cooking, since I didn’t have a mother to teach me how to cook, and everything possible to make me the best person I could be. I am thankful, indeed.

As I look at my son sleep, I am reminded of the times, very late at night before he took his shoes off, before he put food in his stomach, before he sat down after a long day at work, and got comfortable, my father would come into my room, watch me breath, and feel my belly to make sure I, his eldest daughter and crown and jewel, didn’t go to bed hungry. He would hug me, and inhale deeply, and hold me tight. I loved that man. He once told me he felt peace when he did that.

Oh, how I loved that man. The difficulty of navigating through puberty and coming of age, and his lack of understanding due to cultural differences proved too difficult for us. He said once, I wish you stayed a little girl forever. I wished I did too.

The love was there, but we weren’t versed in how to love one another. We weren’t on the same path, and we were too stubborn to ask the other for directions on how to love one another. His love was tested many times, and many times, oh to the dismay of others, he chose me. But he also let me down a few times, too, at pivotal times in my life, seemingly when I needed his love the most.

But the love was always there.

Many days, there were deep conversations, only a father and his baby girl can have, with so many tears, and so many resolutions on how we can keep each other, and not lose ourselves in the process. He wanted to be true to himself, his faith, his culture, and I, well; I just needed to find myself. I needed to discover who I really was, not who he wanted me to be.  I thought he had lived his life already. I just wanted the chance to do the same. My father wanted to save me, from myself, and from the world.

I too, hold him, my child, as he sleeps. I kiss his little cheeks, gaze at him with wonder and amazement and I vow, as long as I am living and breathing, not only will he never want for anything, but I will also never stand in his way of becoming who he wants to be, despite what I want, as I have taken my chances, loved and lost, and I’m living as I’ve chosen.

Despite, the conflict my father had over supporting me in my choices, I will always chose my son no matter what I lose, or who else I lose. 

As for my father, yes, I still feel that he was a coward, but aren’t we all at times? Who always knows the right to do, and even if you do, do you always rise to the occasion?

Did I mention, he was brave too, took many chances to better our lives, and he was my hero, and instilled values in me; hard work, dedication, and commitment, among others.
Did I mention he worked like a dog day in and day out, till the soles of his shoes gave out, so that we would never beg anyone? Don’t let what I said in anger fool you. Despite our misunderstandings, I am not too blind to see his sacrifices. Did I tell you, he was the one who bought me tampons, and embarrassingly explained that they were for, for his wife didn’t want to be a mother to me? Yes, he did.
And did I mention how difficult is to raise a motherless daughter?

Yes, of course, like anyone he made many mistakes along the way, and many more since I’ve become an adult.  So many unkind words exchanged, so much misunderstanding, and hurt buried the love, and now we’re both running on empty; still feeling the love, but not knowing how to reach out.  And now, it seems like there is no way back for us, our bond broken beyond repair, it seems, but you know the pain never subsides, no matter how much time passes, and every time I stop, think and break down, I feel his tears somewhere too, wondering where we went wrong, and how to find our way back. I still love that man.