In the typical
families we are given a mother and a father and they automatically love us more
than ourselves. I was never blessed to be in a typical family. Today I would
like to discuss the man who sired me. He was only given one daughter in this
life, and he always had the ability to make me feel worthless because I was
born a girl. Life is never fair I guess. Many fathers seek to ensure
that their daughters know how to live with or without them. Mine never cared
enough for that. I was the child that never should have been born. He always
doted on his four boys and never made them feel optional. After three and a
half decades I gave up on him ever loving me, or him making me a priority in
this life. I have not spoken to him in almost a year now. As I sit here tonight
I realize that I have lost nothing but the feeling of inferiority. I lost the
man that was my true father almost 8 years ago: my Papa. He was my grandfather
and he worshiped the ground I walked on. His loss has nearly cut me in half. I
digress from the point that I am attempting to make here. With my parental
figure of the male gender being removed from my life I don’t have that person
telling me I’ll never succeed at anything I do. I will never be reminded of the
failure I had become. The other day during a restless slumber I was awaken by
the telephone ringing. I never answered the call, but had the feeling that the
person on the other end was telling me that he had died. I have no clue why I
felt that, but I did. I became aware that his living or his dying mattered not
to me. In my mind he is the monster out of a fairy tale. I will find no joy in
his eventual passing, but I will feel no sorrow either. What kind of person
does that make me to feel nothing to the man that provided me life? I don’t have
the answer to that question and probably never will, but I’m alright with that.
As long as I wish him no harm then my conscience is clean and my soul will
remain intact.
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