Father

Let me tell you about the first man I ever loved.

He was gentle, loving, and absent.

He was my father.

Growing up, I looked forward to glimpsing moments of him.

For the first part of my childhood, my great-aunt took care of me.

My father would come when he can, which was not very often.

You see, he was a struggling musician who battled alcohol.

He had big dreams and a beautiful heart, but very lost in the world.

He was labeled as the blacksheep of the family; the only artistic one, and he was ostracized from the rest.

I felt his sadness when he came to see me.

I wanted to save him.

My mom did too... that's why she married him.

But she divorced him when she finally had enough.

So there I was, a child, trying to figure ways to make my father feel loved.

Whilst I was trying to figure out ways to feel love myself.

I remember dressing up for my father on the days when he said he would come visit.

I couldn't wait to see him so I could feel loved and wanted.

He had a way with words, always telling me how much he loved me.

With him, I felt 'belong'.

But more often than not, he didn't come.

He said he would, but he didn't.

Heartbroken, again and again.

Wait for him, I would, again and again.

Telling myself how foolish I was, trusting him only to be let down, again and again.

But he was a good man. He was gentle and loving.

And I didn't have a choice but to love him.

I just forgot to love myself, in the process...

Now, having reflections of this mirrored to me in my recent relationship, I ask for grace as I meet this little girl.

To tell her to surrender to the Grace of God and to feel the love that she deserves.

To feel the love that she Is.

That I AM.

#book #taiwan