I lost my father at a very young age and I grew up with no real memory of him. I only had his stories told to me by my mother and other family members. My whole life I struggled with the guilt of “forgetting” my father. He died when I was around two but the “guilt” always weighed me down. He was Jamaican, and was deported shortly after I turned one due to some legal trouble. Most of his family lived in Jamaica and I didn’t have relationship with them either. Along with guilt, there was a lot of self-identity issues. I’ve always felt as if there was a part of me that I didn’t know. I believe that your environment and family shape you as a person, so I always wondered what I would be like had I known him.

Im going to share something I wrote when I was just 15 years old. I found it in a box of stuff I left at my mom’s after I moved out. I was always a writer and an emotional person, so I would write to myself as a form of expression. I was happy I found this but I also felt sad for 15 year old me who was lost and looking for answers.

“There are many of those out there like men but why do I feel so alone? Sometimes I get so angry because I wonder why my father’s life was taken away – why leave me here without a father in my life? And these thoughts of mine makes things worse because I know I will never have the answers to these questions. I would do anything (and I mean anything) to have him here with me right now. And can you believe at one point in my life I even blamed my own mother? Because once they broke up he got into some legal trouble and was sent back to Jamaica and he needed money to bring him back and my mother wouldn’t give it to him and I felt that if she had he would be here today. But I came to realize that maybe somehow that was his destiny. But how can his destiny not include me, his baby girl? That’s why I find it hard to absolutely believe in God because I feel like if he really existed and loved all of his children unconditionally he would have kept my father here on earth. Some days I just cry because I pity myself, but at the same time I cry because I miss him and Im mad at myself for having absolutely NO memory of him. When I hear my peers express great dislike for their fathers I think to myself you’re lucky you have one at all. Most people don’t even know my father is dead because that’s a part of me that I only share to my closest friends. Yes I am grateful to have a mother who loves me unconditionally and would lay her life on the line for me but no matter how hard she tries she can never fill this hole in my heart – because there’s no love like a father’s love. “

December 14, 2006 @ 9:57 pm

I cried when I found this. I am sharing this for anyone who resonates with these feelings. I am sharing this for 15 year old me who felt alone and incomplete. I hope I am making you proud, I love you. May you rest in peace.

Me and my dad, 1992