No matter what you say...

Me and my father have never had a father son “leave it to beaver” black and white fantasy relationship.

It was more like the typical rolling stone black father. Little boy wonders why daddy doesn’t love him or why mommy couldn’t make him stay. It was that 8 years after the fact relationship that forced to strong egos more alike than willing to admit, to clash and clash until the father disappeared deep in to drugs and stubbornness and the ignoring of responsibility.

The child grew bitter and cold and unloving and depressed.

The child grew and the father slowly crept his way out of the hole and tired to fix what was already broken and neither had the tools. Not then, not now. Blinded by mutual hardheadedness they tired to fix instead of start over.

So they clashed, and hurt, and never healed, and never wondered why. They just existed in chance meetings over holidays and traded cash for hugs never given and apologies that would never be made.

This is the cycle that we follow 21 years later and I can live with us as we are. Accept that things aren’t always picture perfect. I also understand that no matter what my father is mine, and I am of him, and I love him. Every track mark, unkept promise, and visit that was never made.

Its broken, yes, but its ours and we hold to it with every fiber that’s in us. We fight and repel and remember just to fight and repel. its far from perfect, but again its ours…and no one can take it from me…

Claiming whats mine,

KD