(196th day, 169 more days to go)
Writing for this Blog has allowed me to let out some anger and sadness that I’ve held inside of me for far too long. I have never shared most of my feelings with anyone and some of the characters I have written in to my scripts have expressed some of my thoughts. I hope by the time I retire from Blogging about my past life that I will have Let It (ALL) Go by the 365th post. I couldn’t go any further without writing this particular post. It’s dedicated to the man I knew as my father. It’s the root of why “Crazy” Baby Mamas began in the first place.
Check it. Enter an old school sky-blue car that I couldn’t tell you the type of car it was to save my life. It rolled through the Miami International Airport slowly driven by my mom while the man I knew as my father sat in the passenger seat. Their conversation was in Creole and the woman over the PA system in the background spoke in several languages. So I took in the sights rather than listen to the mumbo-jumbo going on in my surrounding. My big-ole five-year old head peered through the side window as I watched couples hugging each other saying their goodbyes.
The car stopped in front of a Skycap waiting for his next tip which he thought was going to be the man who I knew as my father but was shooed away before he got out of the car. He kissed my mother and turned to remind me to be a good girl and take care of my mother. Before I knew it, he was walking through the double doors leading into the airport with a burgundy suitcase and garment bag over his shoulder. For the next 13 years, he came in and out of my life until, for whatever reason, he decided to remain out of it for good.
During the Spring of 2005, my home phone rang. My daughter’s father and I were together at the time and he answered the phone. It was the oldest daughter of the man I knew to be my father. I have never felt comfortable calling her my sister cause I always considered my four sisters my only sisters. I will give her credit because over the years she made numerous attempts to be in my life and tried to connect me with the rest of the kids the man had with other women which were a total of 6 kids (including myself) with four Baby Mamas. Those attempts were disrupted when I expressed to her that I never desired to have more siblings or meet them. And yes, I still feel this way today.
My daughter’s father gave me the phone and before I could say hello, I could hear her crying. At first, I couldn’t think of why she was crying and I didn’t feel like I was that person she would call while distraught. Through her tears she said, “our dad died.” She then burst into more tears that became contagious because I began to cry too. I wasn’t crying because he died but I felt bad to hear her cry.
She explained that since he died in Haiti that the funeral would be held there and if I needed help with purchasing a plane ticket to let her know. She promised that she would try her best to get the money for it. Feeling guilty, I told her not to worry about it. Considering she was obviously emotional, I didn’t want to burden her with trying to come up with some money for a plane ticket that wasn’t going to be used on top of her trying to mourn the loss of her father. She’s the oldest with me being the second oldest so I knew that most of his family would look to her to get things in order for him.
The moment we hung up, I walked into the bathroom to dry the tears from my eyes. I don’t remember what I was doing at that very moment before the phone call but I do remember that I continued with my day. After a few moments, I picked up the phone to call one of my friends whose father wasn’t in her life either. I gave her the run down of my conversation and how I felt numb about the situation. I did crack a couple of jokes about his death between the things I remembered that were said. She asked if I was going to Haiti for the funeral. My response was, “Hell No.” I didn’t respect him when he was alive and I wasn’t about to since he died. Besides, I didn’t have a passport at the time and I wasn’t going to go out of my way to get one especially for his ass.
When she returned from the funeral, all I could do was laugh at all the comments his family mustered up about me. They figured my mother had brainwashed me to feel the way that I did. Also, they felt that I was disrespecting him by not showing up despite that he was never in my life. I guess there was no way that as a grown woman I could have felt insulted, hurt, and abandoned by the man who I knew to be my father for never being there for me. My mother wasn’t the one who was given his mailing address and phone number so that I could remain in contact with him. My mother wasn’t the one who felt rejected when a birthday card I mailed to him returned with NO SUCH ADDRESS stamped all over it. She wasn’t the one who was angry because her so-called father gave her the wrong phone number too. There’s no amount of brainwashing in the world that could make me feel this way when that man refused to be part of my life.
Now that I’m a mother, I could see why his family would think that my mother brainwashed me. I’m sure it was tempting to want to tell me bad things about him but she allowed me to have my own feelings about him. I am now doing the same for my daughter.
Little did my Mama know that she had a “Crazy” Baby Mama growing inside of her. I hope that I am Breaking The Cycle when it comes to raising my daughter. This goes to show that you can’t take someone’s life for granted especially when you help create that life.
Written by: Maxx