We Die To Live Again!

In Her Thoughts: We Die To Live Again
📸AfroBloggers 

I couldn't find myself to post #HappyFathersDay2020, only did for work. You only celebrate what you know right? It was hard to come up with copy but thanks to Google. Experience is the best teacher, but what happens when it's foreign. My Dad died when I was two or a year and some months, I'm not sure the memory it's blurry.

I have known the pain of never knowing how it feels like having a superhero. Not being able to save DAD in my contact list. Not getting scolded for staying out late, Or get the 'let's wait for father'. Special birthdays or someday walking me down the aisle. The Dadvice, the small statements like 'my dad taught ABC or DEF'. 

I have known the pain of asking why my life is different. Asking God why it had to be my Dad? Why He couldn't keep him around longer to at least know a face to hold on to? I have known the pain of seeing my Mom taking the world worst thrown at her with grace. Kudos to her! Dad's relatives fading away faster than the memories I had of him. Being everyone's kid, everyone has a say in what you should do or should not do.

Living with what if's? Could have's? Unsatisfied expectations and questions. Having no option but live it through. Not having a chance to sob around, run to someone, or the privilege of unloading your burdens, unpacking your questions and unlearning Daddy-daughter relationship. 

They say your DAD is your first love, foreign much. Having to go at life with no reference for how a man should treat you or love you. Few heartbreaks later, I know better. I have known pain. Still learning and finding my feet one breath at a time.

P.S I have a present amazing Father, some put *step* but his presence is more important than the title.  Happy Father's day with love!

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