a year ago
Last Father’s Day, there was a baby in my belly. The one before that, I had someone else barely cooking in my stomach and shortly after we celebrated with brunch at The Smith, we lost them.
I was devastated. You handled it all in stride.
Not once did I see pain on your face or in the clench of your fist. You held it together for me.
Or maybe you realized, faster and better than I, that it was just not meant to be.
This year we are celebrating with our angel at our side and seeing the two of you together warms me from the tips of my toes to the hairs atop my head.
Your face was the first one I saw in the operating room; the look of excitement when his first cry cut through the chatter amongst the doctors, nurses, and residents. It was your voice keeping me grounded when I was in and out thanks to the anesthesia.
I’ve seen many examples of Black fatherhood; some good, others bad. I harbored secret fears about your future relationship with our son because of the ones I’ve witnessed in my life.
There was never any need for fear. You love hard and I’ve been the primary recipient throughout our almost ten-year relationship.
The way you ask for your son when you come home from work.
The look on your face when you see him brings tears to my eyes.
I have pictures to prove it, I have memories to sustain me for the rest of my life.
You are a better Father/husband than I could have possibly prayed for. I thank God, every day for blessing you in our life.
Happy Father’s Day my love.