Normally I pour my tears out on a Father’s Day post but this year it’s simple. Yes, I miss my father. Yes, I feel him with me. I struggle with holding tight to images, smells, memories, songs. I still cry spontaneously over little triggers that remind me. I do have some miracles that have come out of this. My life has changed in two years in many ways, for the better for me (it isn’t really a question about if my life change has been better for others though I do think about that sometimes).
I still find injustice in the most obscure news related stories that have to do with fathers. For example, I do feel bad for the South Carolina Governor Sanford’s boys. They didn’t even hear from their dad on Father’s Day because he was in Argentina, unbeknownst to anyone but him and his paramour.
Yvie sent me a Sekou Sundiata video today and my link to my dad in that way is that Sekou met my dad at graduation and I could see some similarities in kindness and temperment that always make me ache. They’re both gone, Sekou and my dad. I hope they’re able to speak wherever they are.
Sekou Sundiata on Def Poetry Jam
There’s a father/daughter annual dance that happens in some parts of this country that makes me jealous. But then I still check myself that I did dance with my father at my brother’s wedding and I savor it in my head like a last meal. I am happy that I was able to appreciate that dance at the time. Fuck Hallmark.
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