My father has always been a broken man. His youth, short lived. At 20, he had already lost both parents (causes to be determined) and became the patriarch to five siblings ranging in ages from three to 14, including one with special needs. In order to provide, he severed the wants and skimped the needs. Life was never about him. Sacrifice was the norm.
I cannot truly fathom the hardship my father had to endure throughout the first quarter century of his life. The second quarter was also a blur as my parents split from the time I was five and he moved to the Golden State and remarried. I can, however, attest to the last eight years leading up to the end of his third quarter century. Will this basketball-loving man and Lakers fan see his final quarter?
He once described his tears as blood drops on the inside. No one sees the pain that pours through his soul. Hearing him say this through bloodshot eyes and burly brows gave immediate conviction. What sort of comfort could one offer to another who cries from within?
I know my father is happiest when we spend time together. Of course we've also had not-so-happy moments. But for the most part, he loves my company. Up until June 25, 2009 (the day my dad underwent cataract and Michael Jackson died - totally unrelated), I would always visit him at the donut shop to talk. It was our regular QT and the place where we told stories, shared thoughts, and grew to know one another.
This blog is dedicated to him but not written for him. In fact, he doesn't even know I'm doing this. He always wanted me to write a biography on him after he passes, but I don't see the value in waiting. There's too much to say about this man. I pray for patience and compassion on my part to help him see the beauty in life. I pray that we reach his final quarter and for it to be the best remaining years we have as father, daughter, and most importantly friends. Amen.
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