My beloved father passed away several years ago. He died in April, so this month is rather hard for me. Memories swirl and they still cause the heart to ache even with the passage of time.
My father was one of the most influential people in my life. His humor, dedication to serving the community and love of history are part of my inheritance. A bitch nurtures those gifts daily.
A bitch believes that a person is truly blessed by the people the Devine One brings into their life. My father was my blessing and he still is.
One of my fondest memories of my father is of his ability to say crazy shit with a straight face and how he often used this skill to cut tension in my childhood.
My mother was a very paranoid woman. She feared everything and even feared fear. As a child, she used to deny any requests to participate in sleep-overs or visits because she doubted the common sense of other parents. Because of my brother’s autism and hyper-activity, having friends sleep over at my house was pretty much out of the question. So, a bitch became isolated and lost a few friends who failed to understand that my lack of socialization wasn’t bitchitude based.
Some of my fellow students teased me mercilessly about our 'crazy house', my 'crazy' brother and all manner of things related to race. The more paranoid my mother became the more she isolated us. And as we became more isolated my peers became crueler…building up a mythology about my home life that went beyond embarrassment into a sphere my ass has yet to define.
A bitch became a freak and lacked the ability to defend myself against that label on top of the multitude of negative labels already heaped on my afro-puffed head.
My father was a perceptive man and he understood that a bitch was hurt and frustrated. One Saturday a bitch had two of my only friends over for a visit. My mother and brother were out of the house and this bitch had spent hours cleaning and perfecting my home image the night before. Everything had to be perfect…the report back to my peers on Monday had to be positive, because this bitch just couldn’t take any more drama. We gathered in the kitchen after playing outside and watched my father prepare lunch.
My father, with a twinkle in his eye, turned to my friends and asked…"So, what’s it gonna be? Cake, ice cream or cake and ice cream?”
He looked serious as a motherfucker.
My friends snorted and replied…"We can’t have cake and ice cream for lunch!”
Dad looked confused. “Well, we usually have cake and ice cream for breakfast, but sometimes it’s cool to have breakfast for lunch too.”
My friends looked about ready to pass out from envy. “Wow! We didn’t know you had ice cream for breakfast! Wow! That’s too cool. No way would we ever get ice cream or cake for breakfast or lunch in our house.”
Initially, a bitch was embarrassed. My father’s brand of humor wasn’t for everyone. But, watching as he made my friends laugh and ooze pre-teen jealousy over the complete bullshit lie that we ate masses of ice cream every morning, a bitch loosened up.
We settled on sandwiches...and then ice cream with cake.
And my father was once again the hero of my universe.
Life is short and the journey is not always smooth. Jump off the train every now and then and settle down for a hot fudge sundae for breakfast, lunch or dinner.
Love you, Daddy…forever and always.