RIP Daddy

Daddy.

I haven't said that word in so long, in 8 years to be exact. My dad died 8 years ago today. 2:30 in the afternoon to be exact. I can remember how angry I was. Even though he was on his deathbead, I didn't think he would pass away. There are times when I re-realize that death is irreversable. Such a rude awakening. I made plans for us. I saw my dad becoming my best friend, advising me through womanhood and marriage, children and everything in between.

It was my first year of college at that very bougie university in up state New York. I was beginning to experience many new things and realize who I was in relation to this classist, racist and violent (among other things) world in which we live. I was hurt, because of all the things I was denied as a child, I thought I was owed a father. I looked around me and envied my fellow freshmen, they had so much more than I, including a father. I wanted to kill. I was hurt to the bone. Above all that, I had to comfort myself. I was too sad to let my family and friends see the side of me that fell apart. I downplayed my depression and fear. Some people were disgusted that I wasn't going in hysterics over his death, as my brother was, but, really my heart was broken. It still is.

There are many things I want to talk about regarding my fathers death. I have shared with a few about how he died. Many people usually dont understand me when I say that I need my fathers sheild, that I would feel safer with his navigation. Just his presence alone would eliminate some of the things I experience on a daily. My brother and sister need him, too. I imagine that if he was still alive, I would have a more comprehension of men. And, just from what I have been experiencing regarding dating and marriage, my stock as a suitor would have been higher than it is as currently as a lone defender. That might sound selfish, not meant to be.

Sounds sad. Not really. Just some observations. I'm having one of my moments.