A Complicated Love: My Father

Saying thank you may sound strange, but it is the appropriate sentiment. When I think back to when I was pounding on my tiny orange toy piano hoping to create a melody and frustrated by my lack of musical genius, I remember vividly your words of affirmation, “You can do anything you put your mind to.” I remember looking into your eyes and hanging on to those words. I’ve been putting my mind to adventures and goals ever since.

Besides giving me your last name, which I hold dear too, your words create a fire that has allowed me to accomplish quite a bit. To show up in places not meant for me yet carve out a place and be impactful. Looking back over my career, the speed bumps, and deterrents never bothered me because I could always find a way to be successful and leave my mark.

Up until now.

I wish you would have told me that I would encounter evil, meanness, and dark psychopaths who would be drawn to me because of that same fire. Or said that being kind can be a curse because many think kindness is a weakness. I would have believed you the same way I felt how you spoke perseverance and resiliency into me. Or that my skin tone would leave many questions and irritate both black and white people and both would try and bury me so deep under the dirt that no one would ever find me. Or that I would choose professions to make a difference and still be shut out by goliaths that look like me, have the same anatomy, and the five stones to defeat them would strategically be out of my reach. Or that I would spend decades with fake friends who sabotaged me, accused me, and spoke of me in terms of insanity. Or I would have to move across the ocean to a foreign country amongst strangers who would openly embrace me. I would have listened Daddy.

In my eyes, you were my hero. You shielded me from abuse after your wife blackened my eye and verbally beat me. You rescued me after I tied my scarf around my neck so tight at six or seven because I didn’t know how to love myself after so many harsh words were secretly spoken of me that I felt deep into my bones. You accepted all of me and I never had to doubt my sexuality. You made me giant when others behind my back spoke of your paternity. You chose me despite the circumstances and did the best you could with limited tools, and an addiction so powerful there were moments you struggled to recognize me. But you never crossed the line.

When you left this earth, the irony was, that I felt a double loss. The one father I knew and the other banished into secrecy. I felt so lost that driving home to celebrate my life was rough. Amos had to take the wheel as I cried through every state line and then laughed at the time you were my ride-or-die when I moved back to Texas in my Geo Metro. Your ability to always be cool, your guidance and conversation—funny how during that time I could have learned the truth, but I chose to embrace our time and bask in the many times you told whoever would listen while en route that I was your daughter. I was a Gambles and that meant so much to me. Yeah, it complicated our history; but never once did you deny me, while so many others did.