It’s crazy how life can flip on you. One minute, you’re a baby laid up on your daddy’s chest, safe, warm, and loved… and the next, you’re grieving the very man who was your first love, your daddy.
There are parts of my childhood with him that I don’t even remember… but oh, I’ve heard the stories. And baby, the stories don’t miss. Like the one where he got into a shootout and a bullet went straight through my car seat. My car seat! And barely missed me. Yeah… that kind of story.
Or the ones where my mom and my Aunt Sharonda would take me to visit him in prison. Because let’s be real, he chose the streets. He chose that life. And I was just… collateral damage in a decision I didn’t make.
But the memories I do have? Whew… they cut a little deeper.
I had those good ol’ rose-colored glasses on as a little girl. My daddy could do no wrong in my eyes. I loved that man like he hung the moon. I remember being so excited when he would come to pick me up… only for that excitement to turn into heartbreak when he and my mom started arguing.
And just like that, plans canceled.
And there I’d be… sitting in my room, crying behind a closed door like somebody just canceled Christmas.
Over and over again.
Now, my mom wasn’t playing about me going with him, but my Aunt Sharonda? She made sure I still got to see my dad. And those moments? They meant everything. Me, him, my siblings… watching movies, laughing, trying to piece together something that looked like a family.
We even took a family picture once.
And listen… when I tell you that picture was ratchet? Baby… hideous. It needs to be burned, buried, and never spoken of again. Ever.
But even in the chaos, I held onto those moments.
Then came that night.
My aunt let me spend the night with him at his ex’s house. Sounds normal, right? Yeah… until it wasn’t.
He decided to drink and drive, with me and my brother in the car.
We had just come from McDonald’s. I had my little Happy Meal, minding my business… and next thing you know, BOOM. Accident.
My “Happy” Meal? Baby… it was no longer happy. It was in my hair, on my face, everywhere.
And while I’m sitting there crying, trying to figure out what just happened, this man, my daddy, takes off running down the street like he’s in a full-blown episode of Run Forrest Run.
Why? Because he was on parole and didn’t want to get in trouble.
So, his girlfriend? She got left to take the fall.
Yeah… that happened.
And just like that, the cycle continued.
The streets would call him, and he would answer like it was his full-time job. And eventually… back to prison he went. Again. (Cue “Locked Up” by Akon playing in the background 🎶)
And every single time? It broke me.
The promises… “I won’t go back to prison” … broken.
My heart… also broken.
Eventually, I learned how to survive without him. I told myself I was done. I was tired of being hurt.
But the moment he sent a letter?
Baby, I folded faster than a lawn chair.
I was addicted. Straight up.
I got used to having a “prison dad.” Because somehow, behind those walls, he showed up better than he ever did in real life. He listened. He gave advice. He talked to me. I told him everything. Everything (even the stuff that makes me cringe now)!
It felt real.
It felt safe.
It felt like love.
But let me tell you something…
Moissanite diamonds shine real pretty… but they’re still not the real thing.
And neither was that version of him.
Fast forward.
My dad got out of prison in May 2020, and listen, that alone was a miracle because staying out? That was NOT his track record.
So, I stepped up.
I made sure he had everything. Clothes, shoes, toiletries… love. I tried to be what my Aunt Sharonda was to him before she passed. I tried to fill a space that wasn’t even mine to fill.
But the crazy part?
I rarely saw any of the things I gave him again. And the love I poured into him? Yeah… that went missing too.
Anytime he called, I ran.
Anytime he needed me, I showed up.
I poured and poured and poured… until I had nothing left.
And all I asked for?
Time.
Presence.
Just… be there.
He promised me he would be there for me and my kids.
But those promises?
Broken.
And so was my heart.
Now let’s talk about something else, my dad was an alcoholic. And prison almost killed him because of it. He got so sick, he was on the edge of cirrhosis.
He told me he was done drinking. Said he would never go back because he almost lost his life.
But like they say… talk is cheap.
Because he went right back to it.
Like a dog returning to its own vomit.
Yeah… I said it.
And that’s when it finally clicked for me.
Lesson #1:
My dad didn’t have the capacity to love me the way I loved him… because he didn’t even love himself.
And you can’t give what you don’t have.
So, I had to stop placing expectations on someone who simply didn’t have the ability to meet them.
And Lesson #2
This one right here? This the one that’ll preach all by itself:
Never pour so much into someone that you leave yourself empty.
Because no matter how much love you give a person, if they don’t love themselves, they will never pour that love back into you.
You’ll just end up frustrated… heartbroken… and drained.
And baby, I learned that the hard way.
I tried to be the love my dad never had.
But in the process?
I almost lost myself.
And that’s a price I refuse to pay ever again.
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