Today is my Dad’s birthday. He would have been 81 years old. I miss him a lot. Especially since I’ve become a parent, divorced, and life has not turned out the way I pictured it. However, in my darkest times I hear his voice. “Keep Going. You got this. You can do this.” My Dad was my cheerleader. He was the person who I could bounce ideas around with even if they sounded crazy. My Dad was my first hero. Rest in Power Dad. I love you and I miss you. xoxoxo
I think my Dad ruined me because he demonstrated to me at an early age that people who love you are suppose to believe in you and champion you. He didn’t sing my praises to over exalt me, but he always told me when I did something clever. He scolded me when I acted an ass, but he always talked to me about the way the world worked and how I needed to navigate it to be successful.
My father dropped out of high school in the 9th grade. Yet, it is him who taught me about life, about self-esteem, about working hard, about being a good parent, about how the world would attempt to f*** me over continuously because I was an intelligent, strong, independent Black woman and how I would be unloved for most of my days. He was a high school dropout – yet he saw far…
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