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Father Can you Hear Me?

I am such a procrastinator. I literally wait for the last minute to do anything. So is my oldest child. So was my Mother. I have always been late. To school, work, events. Strolling into school at nine o’clock thinking it’s okay because I’m gifted and talented. I’m the teachers pet. Bitch-you late. Sashaying into work on the latest tour dressed to kill while others were on time sitting with rollers in their hair. But I’m DEAF and I work at the phone company. Bitch-you about to get suspended. My Father was the King of Time management. He hated being late. He despised that I was always late. My graduation everybody came-all I really remember besides Nana telling me take off my shoes was Daddy pacing back and forth in front of the school in the scorching heat waiting for everyone to arrive. He had just completed a lengthy stay at a Rehabilitation facility and to say that he looked GOOD was an understatement. Moving right Along was the sharpest man in the Auditorium.

I’m single and David doesn’t know the difference between a hammer and a hammock. So my maintenance person was here the other day. He measured the half wall in my kitchen for a shade I’m going to hang. I have lived in this building eighteen years. Two apartments and they always help me. I told him “I don’t know how to measure anything-Daddy did it for me” He looked around my house that I made a home again with his help, laptop open, baby happy, David smiling and put his hand on my shoulder and said “Kim you’re doing GREAT keep it up.” He’s seen a lot in my life the last eighteen years, the highs and the lows, the tears and the laughter, the battered spirit and blackened eyes. He was here with Mommy and I after Daddy died and would go to the store for us when the Sun felt too bright.

One of the reasons I am so independent is because I had a great Father. Up until a few months ago my view of my Father was not very flattering. I was angry about things that weren’t within his control. Addiction is an illness like anything else. We don’t chastise Cancer victims for relapses we pray for remission. It’s also because his character never wavered. My Mother worked nights and my Father worked days. So we spent a lot of time with him. Mommy was the best Mother that ever graced this earth. She loved you even when you didn’t love yourself. But my relationship with my Father was beautiful and it took an inadequate person attempting to tarnish it for me to see it in a new light. My Father rarely cried. He cried when David came home to his son after eight years, eleven months and twenty-two days. He cried when he found out my hearing loss was permanent because he thought it would hinder my success. People are cruel but I’m an adult and a very well functioning one at that. I have come to terms with that as well and I will share that too in another entry candidly.

I am now an early riser.  I have a lot on my plate. I’m in love with life! My lists, my plans. My Daddy always had lists. I wrote one before Thanksgiving. It was on the bottom of my clipboard. I put everything up there but the kitchen sink. Don’t you KNOW that about eighty percent of it has come to fruition. I’m a lot of things. I call myself a BITCH because I am. Always have been and always will be. But I’m THAT bitch. I’m now using my powers for good and not evil. Ronald was petty.  I am too. But it’s draining. Those that try to break you are expecting you in fight mode. Nothing matters to me but my children’s well being and my success. I’m just trying to get myself together so I’m at that RocNation Brunch next year. I will NEVER be the NEW “IT” girl because I been on. Daddy you always told me I was a star. I love and miss you so much. You always had my back. Thank you for everything-Father can you hear me?


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