I have no pictures of my father, save the two distinct memories of seeing him briefly in my life. I must admit—it took many seasons to truly make peace with his having little regard for my mere existence—but I have, and for two reasons: Firstly—his lack of presence had absolutely Nothing to do with Me—that was his choice; and Second—he and my mother did what was necessary to get me to this realm.
Gifts are gifts, no matter who wrapped them, or how they are wrapped. We can bitch and moan about such things, but we end up missing out on so much more.
That said—though you never really see anything spoken on my father in this space, I am posting something on this day:
I come not to diminish the memory of this man, nay—I thank him for being a vessel in the aiding of my arrival. And I am thankful I have been gifted the opportunity-no matter the trials endured-to not be my father—and become my own Man. I will hope that in some world—he would wish nothing more.
So happy father’s day to my paternal vessel-Cleveland J. Newman—may you find peace in your eternal slumber.
‘I ain’t mad atcha, no mo’.’
my biological obstacle~fathom 9 (via fathom9)