“I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they’re right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.”- Marilyn Monroe
This is a question that I ask myself at times or hear my sister friends talk, complain, lust over. Not physically seeing love, gives me a slight tainted and warped view. If you deem viewing the Cosby show as the closest thing, then yes, I know what it is.
Growing up without a dad does impact a young girl heavily. A dad is supposed to tell and show his daughter how loved and treasured she is…yet that didn’t happen for me. My dad was there in a roundabout way, if you consider birthday cards and letters from here and there as love then I had that in abundance.
Living with my mom and my immediate cousins, I was always reminded that I didn’t belong. It wasn’t something mentioned to me in a spoken way but being observant as I was back then I knew it. Many watch Fresh Prince of Bel Air as entertainment, funny yes, but it hit really close to home for me. I had an Uncle Phil in my life who didn’t want the responsibility of raising his sister-in-law’s child. I was too independent, too rowdy, too friendly, to everything for his taste. What I lacked in father, I embraced in everyone else.
The hardest days was the father-daughter days at school. Those days I would fake a sickness just to get out of the embarrassment of not being able to share my story with the class but even worse hearing my little cousin face light up as she went over her play by-play with her father, my uncle. Never once did he extend an offer to take me but yet year after year I would lace him with gifts for Christmas as well as Father’s Day.
Reality set in….I had an absentee father, who decided that his anger towards my mom was one he would project on his last born, his only daughter.
I first saw my dad when I was 9 years old and I was flooded with so many emotions: would he recognize me, would he be happy to see me, how does he look, am I just like him? That day was the changing factor in my young life, when I stopped playing fantasy and reality slapped me in my face….
That was the day that I lost my youth.
My visit with my father was the strangest encounter I have ever witnessed. Two strangers meeting for the very first time, excited but a nervousness that I couldn’t explain. After a long day of observing and listening, I knew that I would never have a dad. It was the worst pain that I ever encountered but as I boarded the plane to head back to America, I grabbed my mother’s hand and quietly cried.
When I schooled in Nigeria for one year, I quietly hoped that he would take out the time to ask for me and visit me. What was I thinking….that whole year he never came to visit. When I did see him , it was by accident. He only said two words to me and left….another blow. I was shocked how could a man help in giving you life but be so cold towards his own seed?
He died when I was 16 and my silent hopes of ever having a dad was crushed. My dad was my mom, she raised me and loved me in a way that I can only share. I knew she couldn’t give me what she had but she shared with me a love that was unconditional.
Now that I have gone through a few relationships of my own…there is only one love that I have known, funny enough that love has also brought me pain, confusion, joy and embarrassment.
So what the hell is