To T.K.- Because I Love Him Anyway
Yesterday I dreamt of you. You walked tall and strong into the room wearing your kente cloth. The same one we buried you in. You were healthy and looked 15 years younger. I gave you a long hug. Something we hardly ever did while you were in this world.
You pulled away and asked if I needed anything. All I did was stare.
——
I hope he knew that I loved him. We didn’t speak to each other much towards the end. But, I hope he knew that I always cared for him.
Maybe that is why he visited me in that dream. To let me know, that he knew.
In life, I was waiting for his phone call. And even still I find myself expecting to find a missed message from him. I miss him.
You see, the thing with little girls is that they can’t help but love their daddies.
A lot of the time he was so frustrating, but sometimes he made me laugh so hard. I remember when we were little before he got sick, how he would drive so fast with us in his taxi car down the big slope of Grubb Road. It was like a rollercoaster! I remember how he used to work out on the Total Gym machine and how cool we thought he was. I remember the times we would sit and talk for hours about what I can’t remember on the stoop of the Silver Spring house. I remember how he used to play with his false teeth (and how surprised we were to find out they weren’t all real!) I remember all the Heineken he used to drink and the Redskins games he’d watch on the living room sofa.
I’m forgetting your laugh. If you could just call, just one more time….
He may not have been the best man, because he wasn’t – or always present, because that he wasn’t either. He could have done better and I remember a lot of his failures, but I’m not angry. Because he was mine.
He was mine.
You are mine.
Happy Father’s Day.
MILD MUSINGS AND OBSERVATIONS 