My Father's Child.

I'm tryin'...

Today is Father's Day. My Dad has been gone for a long time now; you'd think I would be over it or would deal with it better. I ain't. I trick myself all the time, saying that I can deal with the fact that he's gone, but there were a lotta questions left unanswered and a lotta issues unresolved.

I get so fucking mad when I think about how my Dad died. 

Alone. Stupidly. Needlessly.

I've been spending a lotta time alone lately, but not for the same kindsa reasons my Dad did. I am very seriously looking at my Life and trying to see some kinda future. I don't believe my Daddy was able to do that. I think he felt like everything good was behind him, but I was right here praying and waiting for some kinda miracle, some kinda hope to jump into his chest to make him see that I was right fucking here. We were all right fucking here and we all loved him. Shit.

He didn't have to go.

Decisions my Father made and things my Father taught me in the '70's have been affecting me my whole life and will continue to affect me my whole life. I don't know if he realized how much power he had or how impressionable I was; I really thought he was Superman. I believed in Superman until I was in my teens. My Dad would risk his life to save strangers, so the fact that he didn't have the same kinda love for himself will always bother me.  He still has some of that superhero aura to me, however I am old enough now to know that there ain't no Superman and if there was, he STILL has to stay away from Kryptonite. Superman woulda been smart enough to know that.

From a distance, it was so easy for me to fill in the holes with tales of how good he was doing. The last visual memory I have of my Daddy ain't great. Firstly, it was on a day that shoulda been absolutely beautiful and the sight of my Dad shocked me. While I was glad to see him, he looked like shit. His hair was unkempt, his clothes were ruffled, he looked swollen. He didn't look like my Daddy at all, but I knew it was him. I hadn't seen him in a bout two years at that point. I didn't even know if he was coming, so I was genuinely surprised to see him. I was just as surprised by his appearance. My Dad was always sharp; a good dresser, awesome frames for his glasses, great haircut. This dude who looked like he hadn't seen a barber in months (and didn't seem to be worried about it) couldn't have been my Daddy. I saw that cool-ass walk though and I knew damn well who that was. 

"THAT'S MY DADDY!" I didn't give a damn how he looked. He made it. I was overjoyed.

I was in a room upstairs, staring outta the window at my Old Man when he was strolling in to take his seat. I tapped on the pane with my keys. He looked up and I saw my Daddy's beautiful hazel/grey/green eyes, the eyes I was always mad that I didn't inherit from him and my Grandpa Doats. I waved like the little boy that used to wait by the door and listen for his car to pull up to take me away to 'wonderful, magical, Gary, Indiana' when I was a kid. He didn't have on his glasses. My Dad always had some playa-playa glasses, dark-tinted lenses, great taste in frames. I believe he did that on purpose cuz when he took his glasses off, he could look you in the eye and take your breath away.



I think it was the element of surprise when he removed his glasses that he dug, at least I woulda dug that.

That day was supposed to be the start of the rest of my Life, my next phase of this beautiful Life. Everything was in place. Everybody was there to see it happen. My Mama and Daddy were together in the same place for the first time in years. I have two pictures of them together from that day, the last day I saw my Father alive. The last time I saw my Father's eyes. 

She loved him like she loved no one else in her life, I know that. She told me. She also told me that the best thing to happen to her was me and he was obviously a part of that. We were always so thankful to have each other. She always knew how much I loved her back. I went outta my way to make sure she knew that. We were each other's 'rock'. I would do anything for my Mama. ANYthing. 

Three weeks after that day, my Father was dead. Dead in the crib, alone. Stupidly. Carelessly.

I love the shit outta my Daddy, but distance, time, and some really bad decisions he made, made it so I couldn't show that same love for him that I could show my Mama. I couldn't offer everything that I wanted to willingly. And I sooooooo wanted to, dammit. DAMMIT.

I don't like Father's Day, because I never had a chance to show that love, especially on this day. And I never will get a chance. My Dad is gone, man. We never had a real 'Father's Day breakfast' or nothing like that. I think of my Uncle Bebe and remember all the driving back-and-forth he did from Atlanta to Gary, checking in on his Daddy and eventually moving him to Georgia when it was necessary. I think of how highly he spoke of his Daddy and how highly I speak of my Daddy, still, even when I feel like I feel today. Even when I feel like he really fucked-up big-time and Father's Day is gonna bug me forever.

I am so my Mother's Child, because while I am mad as hell at that man, I love him so much that I can't let go of some things. It's the accepting that is killing me right now. I accepted the fact that he and I were always gonna have differences. I have accepted the fact that he came with a lotta baggage and problems. I am having a hard time accepting the fact that we'll never ever ever ever get to work on them. This is the one day a year where I am gonna sit here and be hurt because I earned it. I worked for every tear. It's my own fault; I sold myself the dream that I was gonna, at some point in my adult life, get to spend incredible quality-time with my Daddy, like Bebe did. 

It was gonna be good, I knew that in my heart. It never happened and now it can't.

7 years of this shit, man, every Father's Day. I wake up with nobody to call, no card to buy, no tie to match with a shirt. Uncles count, though. I got mad friends with kids. I stumble my way through the holiday, but the sting of his absence is omnipresent. My memories of the last time I saw him bounce around my head. I am grateful for all the Great Men that have been in my life; I've had a excellent support-system, from Great-Grandfathers to Uncles, that have filled in so many gaps over the years. I'm so thankful, truly. 

But, I ain't named after them, I don't look exactly like them, I don't have their mannerisms and quirks. My Dad's blood courses through my veins, fiercely. I am constantly reminded how much I remind people of him. I sound like him, I laugh like him. That's my Daddy and I will never get a chance to let him know exactly how much I loved him.

I am so my Father's Child and there is nothing that can ever take that from me. I'm hurt as hell, because I love my Daddy and he ain't here. I am reminded of that every time I look in the mirror and see my Mother's eyes missing him, but today is the day that it hurts the most.

Slug and Ant, thank you so much for this album and this song...there's millions of Us out here.

I really miss you, Daddy. I love you, Daddy. Happy Father's Day.



Li'l Russell