Father's Day

I'm spending my Father's Day is central Texas. While I bake in the heat, I can't help but reflect and think about the times with my own father. He died exactly eleven years and 3 days ago. Most of us don't have a chance to appreciate the people in our lives until they are gone, but I have to say that my father is one of those people that I think about often. There isn't a major (or minor) moment that happens in my life when I don't sit back and say, "I gotta call Daddy and tell him--" and then I realize I can't call him, unless I have one helluva phone, and THAT kind of phone hasn't been invented yet. That thought doesn't make me sad though. He had a lot of time for us to get to know each other.
There are those that believe that the dead go away, never to be seen or heard again, but my father's life and death give me reassurance in the African way of believing. I know that the energy he possessed could not possibly go into nothingness. We have to be part of some big pool, a cycle, and with that I know that he is watching me and guiding me, if I will just listen. He gave me many gifts and continues to give me gifts every day. I know that I am a lot like him, just like I have a thing for shoes, he had a thing for shirts. The man had so many shirts he could have worn one a day and not wear them all in a year. More importantly, he taught me to consider the consequences of my actions. He didn't teach me to be scared of action, but instead to consider if I could accept the consequences of those actions or not, and if I decided that whatever it was was worth it, then go for it. All would be good(maybe not with the world but in my conscience) becaause I would have made an educated and well thought out decision. Most mornings, I say a word of thanks for another day, the way the rare Texas breeze feels on my bare legs, and I do a quick nod, at the very least, to those ancestors, like my father that shape my actions and thoughts every day.

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