Happy Birthday Dad

I miss my Dad.... Every. Single. Damn. Day.

If you know me then you know that my Dad and I never had the normal 'father/son' relationship that so many of you out there enjoy with your fathers and so when I see the young men that I coach struggle with the dynamics of this important relationship I share with them stories from own personal struggles.  First off, my Dad was a great provider for his family and he worked hard as a Detroit Cop then on a production line at Ford Motor Company spray painting whatever came down the line. This was at a time of very little work place safety and I know my Dad inhaled enough lead paint to kill him several times over.  He also grew up in a rough time in an even rougher city, the East Side of Detroit.  He shared few stories and when he did they involved alcohol, mischief, and the beatings of so called discipline he'd get when he got caught. Unfortunately when that's what you're taught that's what you share...my Dad was quick tempered with the beatings he'd give me. Not saying I didn't deserve punishment for some of the shit I did but I did not ever deserve to be beaten like I was, most times leaving me with marks all over my body but at this time in the world that was saw it as punishment and most folks concluded that I must be a bad kid.  I remember that was the reason I was given when I was kicked out of Boy Scouts.  I also remember finally getting into a basketball game in the 6th grade, man I was so excited when Coach called my name I stripped off my warm ups and ran to the scorer's table then Coach called me back and told me to put my warm ups back on,  you see I had done something wrong I don't remember what it was but my Dad had taken his weightlifting belt to me and I had so many belt marks on my body that the Coach concluded 'I must be a bad kid' (I walked away from the team because I was embarrassed and humiliated).  I didn't have any family there watching of cheering me on so no one ever knew, hell I don't think anyone even knew I had made the basketball team.   

I have too many memories of no one protecting me, no one helping me, no one asking me what was going on at home or maybe I could have shared with them the stories of the drunken bastard that I tried to escape every chance I could.  My Mom and sisters did but not me, I was left there even when my Dad tried to commit suicide on the side of our garage using his Detroit Police revolver when he was served with divorce papers.  Not my teachers in school, not the coaches in the CYO where I played sports, not my Pastor at church, not the cops I came in contact with, not our neighbors, not my own family, not anyone 

NOT ONE DAMN PERSON ... so I guess maybe they were right and I was just a bad kid who deserved the beatings that I got.  

Trust me when I say that that pain has never gone away and every so often that pain will rear its ugly head in my life and leaves me thinking that I was a bad kid so I must have grown up to be bad man.  

My mom finally had enough and left but that's her story and this is mine.  My dad continued to drink until one day driving his drunk ass home he got in a car wreck and somehow talked his way out of it with his old Detroit Police ID,  yep he had been a Detroit Cop at one time until he had seen enough.  Anyways, he was woken to the sound of the Baptist Church next door, a sound he complained about waking him up on Sunday mornings only this time he didn't complain he got up looked at himself in the mirror and was disgusted at the man looking back.  He cleaned himself up and walked next door and asked God to forgive him and was he Baptized that day and from that day forward my Dad never touched another drop of alcohol again and became a man of great faith believing in the same Bible that he once told me was the most beautiful piece of fiction ever written. 

I still carry the Bible he gave me while I in the Army. He gave it to me as I prepared to go undercover and he helped me understand my feelings from having killed a person in the line of duty.  

With Sally's help over the years my Dad and I slowly repaired our relationship.  I worked hard to set aside my anger of him never once being there for me to accepting the man he had been and the man he was working to become and one day I just decided to forgive him and put it all behind me.  Not one person that knew my story could believe that I did that especially Sally who heard many of the stories but some are too traumatic for me to share.    

I loved it and looked forward to his and Carol's visits to Texas.  Some of the funnest times were watching him and Sally interact. Ooh that stories I could share there.  I really loved my Dad and dammit I miss him so much that some days it just fucking hurts deep down inside of me.  Those days I find myself holding tight the Bible he gave me and reflecting on the good and caring man that he became and some of the comical "Bob-isms" as Sally called it. 

Unfortunately, in September of 2015 the battle against his demons got to be too much for him as he had injured his hip and was getting no relief from the doctors.  He was afraid to loose his battle and fall backwards into the bottle so he decided that his only option was to take his own life.  

I have so many memories both bad and good but I choose to think about the good and I share the bad as lessons in overcoming and of course forgiveness.  God tells me that I must forgive to take my place in Heaven and I have but I will never forget because sometimes those memories truly haunt me. Occasionally I stop and wonder if he understood what he did to me, the life sentence of fearful to show pain or weakness and I really wonder what he thought of the man I became in spite of never having a good male role model in my life... I really wonder if he's proud of me. 

So those of you who's Dads have always been there PLEASE give them a thank you and some love. 

And yes Dad, Peace really does comes from within.