The night was dark and the air extremely dense with fog. I won’t lie. I was a little apprehensive. I had been on piers and docks many times, but never so late. The darkness was one thing, but the fog made it impossible to see more than ten feet. The water was all around. I could hear the sloshing under my feet. This is what happens in scary movies, I thought. If any body or thing jumps out at me... It's on!
Under any other circumstance I might have turned back to my car, but I didn’t need to because I knew he was coming to meet me on that dock. We “who dee whood!” into the darkness and by the third one he appeared. And when he came through that fog I was surprised, not by his presence, but by how close he had been all along.
This is a journey that parents and children often take. It can be a tough lesson for every one to receive, understand and accept. Especially fathers, who regularly get a bad rap for being too tough, too hard and too emotionally removed. Children, remember that your fathers are there. Sometimes, unequipped to say what needs to be said in a way that you can hear, but still wrought with the desire to see you in the midst of the fog. Make sure that your hand is outstretched so that you can find each other through it all.
With a slight hitch in his giddy up Daddy was there— Strong… so strong, brave, resilient. He opened his hand to hold mine and I was reminded that I will never be too old or too married or too somebody's momma for my daddy's hand. I am his little girl... his baby girl. I am safe.
In my entire life, there has never been a time when he didn’t keep his word. Good, bad or indifferent…. If he said you could look forward to a sore butt… count on it. If he said he was gonna buy you a park… count on it. If he said come on down the dock, I’m gonna meet you… I could count on it. So, even when I couldn’t hear or see him— I knew he was coming. I knew he was close. No need to worry. I was safe.
I think adults, in general, underestimate the power of children feeling safe. I know it was a conscious, deliberate choice for my father… to keep his family safe. On his watch we would never find ourselves, “at the wrong place at the wrong time”. Growing up in underserved, inner city communities, I imagine he felt unsafe from time to time. In fact, time to time and unsafe are probably inadequate references. His environment was often, downright dangerous. The pitfalls were abundant. Drugs, gangs, alcohol, police… being Black. The fact that he made it through his formative years with his freedom and his literal life is a tremendous blessing.
God knew I needed this dad. He knew that no other man could challenge me and raise me up the way he has… the way he does. It has never been a perfect relationship— it never will be. I don’t desire perfection in anything. If it’s perfect, how would we continue to grow in life and in love? It would be the end. I don’t want the end. Relationships don’t need to be perfect. They just need to be true. Integrity, in all things, is a lesson my dad insisted I learn early. It is one of his best lessons and I will never forget its’ significance. Be true.
The knowledge, the wisdom available to me by having him as a resource is immeasurable. That doesn’t mean I always listen. It doesn’t mean I’ve always had an appreciation for his interest in making me a better human. It means it’s there for me and it always has been. As a parent, I now understand in ways I never could previously. I also understand that I have children who won’t understand my desires for their life are in their best interest… until they do. I’m learning how to be ok with that now. I’m learning how to give them what they need instead of what I want them to have.
Being a provider has been the hallmark of my experience with my father. Financial stability, intellectual prowess, integrity, discipline and love. I have always had enough. I have never been hungry. The lights have always been on. I have always been clothed. I have lived a life in abundance. He did that.
The way he has loved my mother… His commitment to his wife and his family are the reasons I chose my own husband. Having an example of how a man should treat the woman he loves made all the difference in my life. I wanted a man to love me like my daddy does. I wanted to hear a man show his adoration, his appreciation for me as his wife like my daddy does. If I had not had the example, perhaps I wouldn’t have made such a good choice.
My relationship with my father is one of my most prized possessions. Not because we are so much alike and we totally are, but because he has sacrificed so much and worked so hard to be present, to be good, to be better. I have watched him grow as my father. He jokes, in explanation, that when we were growing up every thing looked like a nail. For better or worse, he was the hammer. The fact that he acknowledges that everything isn’t a nail and that tool belts hold far more than just hammers is important. It’s an acknowledgement of doing better when you know better. Fathers, your children need this transparency from you.
I always felt safe with my father as a child, but even as an adult it has shaped how I move around in the world. Knowing that he is in my corner has allowed me a certain level of confidence. I am not alone… in anything. He is there for me, for my use, at my service. He is my father, my dad… Daddy.
A few years ago I had to have surgery. I was wrecked with anxiety and fear which kind of surprised me. But it was my first surgery as an adult with a husband and children. For me, everything was on the line, but I couldn’t let my mother or my husband or my children know I was afraid. When I came out of surgery… my father was there.
I sobbed. We were alone. So, I was finally able to tell him how scared I had been to go under… that the thought of not coming out had crossed my mind. He kissed my forehead, hushed my cry, wiped my tears and told me he understood. I knew he did. He told me my scars are beautiful and that they’re proof that something that was trying to get me didn’t succeed. He is right. I was safe.
When a childhood friend’s father passed away I was barely an adult. The grieving wife of that man was sitting on the fireplace of their home; no doubt thinking about what life was supposed to mean now. It had been only a short time since the body of the love of her life had been removed from the home. My dad walked in, still in his suit from work, walked over to her, went down on his knee, gave her his handkerchief and wrapped his arms around her while she cried. She was safe.
My dad is how I know what it is to be a gentleman.
My dad is how I know things I don’t even know I know. He is the reason I am a fierce protector and a loyal friend. He is why I dream my biggest dreams. He is the reason I saw a future in the eyes of my husband when my husband was just “this guy I’m seeing”. My father is the reason I could say “I do” to my husband and know that I would forever. I could recognize in my future husband the ambition, the motivation, the intense desire to provide for a family because my father demonstrated it for me. I could truly tell stories about the giant of a man my father is all day. I could talk about how much we look alike and how similar we are in personality… how we laugh about things other people don’t understand…
But instead I’ll just say…
Thank you, Daddy for meeting me in the fog. I’m so so happy to know my hand still fits in yours. Happy Father's Day! I love you... from this life into the next...
Always,
TYO