I don’t have much from my dad. I definitely got his lack of height and last name. But other than that, I do not know. We were not in each other’s lives much. My parents split when I was young. So young that I don’t have a memory of us as a family. I saw a picture once of the five of us and it blew my mind because I didn’t know that existed- proof of us as a family.
It’s hard to have a relationship with someone if you barely see them. He moved around a lot and so did we. I only have a handful of memories with him at his house. One at a Birmingham baseball game. At my high school graduation. The rest are from pictures we have together, which aren’t many. Our phone calls were far and few between and only lasted a few minutes.
When I was in college, our relationship got even more complicated when his addictions came into the light. I won’t go into details of his addiction because that’s not my story to tell but he did get help. After his treatment, he was doing great. He turned his life around day was going back to school to become an addictions counselor.
We reconnected August of 2011. I reached out because I needed help to pay for college. An important thing to note here is that I don’t ask for help. I especially don’t ask for money so for me to reach out to him was truly a work of the Lord. I thought this was it. We could have a relationship we never had. But I was wrong. Just two short months we lost him to a battle with cancer.
Today makes 8 years since I last saw my dad. We were all in his hospital room watching the Saints game, only I wasn’t watching the game. I was watching his chest rise and fall. I was full of feelings that I didn’t know if I should have them. We had just reconnected two months ago so was it ok if I was sad? I remember thinking that it would be weird if people saw me cry so I did what I did best…I stuffed my emotions.
There’s something special that happens when we allow ourselves time. Time to sit. Time to breathe. Time to grieve. It wasn’t until years after his death did I allow myself to grieve. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I broke down. I remember sitting in the grass in my backyard just sobbing. Reconciliation and forgiveness was the best gift for our relationship. We both found the Lord on our own time and He brought us together when our hearts could be open for each other.
It’s a little strange to say that our best times were his worst but thankfully I know I will be with him again. Until then I have a few pictures, his sobriety coin and a pair of his pjs that I still wear from time to time. Grief is a funny funny thing in that we all experience it but we all experience it differently. I have learned that it’s on ongoing process. One that one still learning about. One that I’m now willing to give myself time to go though.
My Lagniappe Years 