Daddy's Little Girl

We are approaching the first anniversary of the death of the most important man in my life. My father. In the past 3 weeks, I have relived every moment from 12 months ago - from the day we found out that he had cancer (January 17th 2006) through the day he died (February 6th 2006) 2 days after his 55th birthday and 6 days before my 33rd birthday. It was the worst 3 weeks of my life. There is nothing more horrible than watching the man who took care of you, taught you to swim, consoled you when you were sad, dried your tears, and gave you piggy back rides, lay in bed and slowly, painfully die.

My father was not a perfect man. In fact he had many imperfections, but he was there. During his memorial service I pulled myself together long enough to say a few words, because I needed people to know what a good father he was. He was always home. He was hilarious. Every time I saw him he would say to me "Do you know your Daddy loves you". His family came first. He believed in his daughters and he raised them to be strong black women.

He loved his grandchildren. My daughter was born two months premature and had to stay in the hospital for 3 weeks before they let her come home. He was there with me every day visiting her. He would sing to her every day. He loved taking my nephews to the Redskins Fan Day. He would pick out little girly gifts for my daughter - play shoes, purses, sunglasses, jewelry. He took his role as Granddaddy very seriously!

When I was 17 he taught me how to drive - on the interstate! I would have preferred side streets, but still he taught me. He took me to the beach and let the waves knock me down, but he never let go of my hand. He took my sister and me to the toy store at the start of each summer and let us pick out water guns. He would get one too and any time my mother left the house the water gun fight was on!

When I was 14 he told me that men only wanted one thing from women and when I asked him if that was all he wanted from mom when he met her, he answered honestly - YES! He told me stories about his life. He told me to go to college if I wanted to be successful. He told me I should be a writer. He told me that we should write a book together. And right before he died he told me that he loved me, that I was a good daughter and that he was proud to be my father.

I am married now. He was not there to give me away. But he left his two best friends for me. Two men who have known him since childhood and have known me since I was conceived. One of them is my godfather, the other is too, but doesn't hold the official title. One walked me down the aisle and told me jokes along the way to make sure I was smiling in my wedding pictures. The other did the father/daughter dance with me and promised me he would not cry because my father would have been proud. He told me to smile because I looked beautiful and my father could see me.

I love my husband, and I know he loves me. I am not an easy woman to live with, but he puts up with all my craziness and loves me anyway. But in the back of my mind I know that no man could ever love me the way my father did. No man could ever give me that feeling that I would get when I saw my Daddy. I felt like I was 5 years old whenever I saw him. I remember when we were kids and he would come home from work my mother, sister and I would all run to the door shouting "Daddy's home!! Daddy's home" and he would kiss my mother and then my sister and I would sit on his feet and he would walk us around the house until his legs hurt. I miss that, and somehow I don't think my husband would let me do it (smile).

There were times when I was angry with him and through my later teenage years, I went beyond anger to disrespectful. I thought that I hated him. But as I became a woman and realized that no one is perfect - not even Daddy, I let go of the anger and I grew to love him even more. Knowing that he would always be there was comforting. Knowing that he was the type of father who could talk me through my tears and my fears as a young woman was phenomenal. I miss him terribly and my life will never be the same. I want to talk to him again- sometimes I do... Daddy if you are listening I just want to say...

"Do you know your daughter loves you!"

The People Under the Stairs

Everyone has relatives that they wish they could forget. I seem to have an obscene number of them. Particularly ALL of my first cousins on BOTH sides of the family. They run the gamut from ignorant to broke to ghetto to ...well you get the picture. I find myself stalking my caller ID in fear that they will call and want to come over. The phone rings... I debate even looking... OH MY GOD it's them!! Do I answer? No--I don't want to deal with them today. But wait! if I don't answer they might just stop by. OH WHY ME?? WHY ME??

I answer the phone--they are an inevitable evil. They want to come by this weekend. I have no choice but to say yes since I put them off for the last 2 weekends. Then comes the hard part--I have to tell my husband that they are coming. He looks at me with disdain, gives a heavy sigh and says okay fine... I'll be hiding in the bedroom.

Now I love my cousins. They are my family. We grew up together and they have been there to help me every time I have moved. Now that might not seem like much, but I have moved 15 times in the past 14 years. Granted I always pay them, but I was starting to get on my own nerves with all of the moving.

But they are an interesting group...

Cousin A
Blames everyone in the family for his inability to function in the world. i.e.: keep a job, get off probation--you know, standard stuff. But his girlfriend is great. She is smart and responsible and they have two great kids.

Cousin B
Had been the only one on this side of the family without kids. Recently hooked up with a baby making machine 10 years younger than him who can barely speak standard english--I won't even get into the writing like a 6 year old. This girl is 20 years old with three kids by three different guys! The latest kid is my cousins child (so we've heard) and she is a beautiful girl. I loved the name they picked for her (which will not be disclosed to keep their anonymity) at least until I saw how they spelled it. let's just say it's the equivalent of spelling Nicole like this NMIKHOL. That poor child will never get a job that doesn't involve a pole or a spatula. As for her mother, I cannot stand this girl! She comes to my house always wearing clothes that are clearly for a person 50 pounds lighter than her with her hair looking like the back of a sheep's ass. I know you just had a baby but give me a freaking break. Just hearing her talk makes my skin crawl. I refuse to utter her name so I have grown accustomed to referring to her as "that girl".

Cousin C
Is a beautiful girl who is really sweet, but life has been hard on her. She cares nothing about her appearance and is content to walk around wearing grease stained work uniforms - even on her days off. Cousins A and B are her brothers. Their parents both died in 1999 in separate incidents - one in February and the other in October. She is truly lost without her mother. My mother, sister and I have done our best to try to steer her in the right direction but trying to have a conversation with her is like trying to reason with a 3 year old. Both my mother and I have taken her in on separate occasions to give her a chance to get herself together, but it's a lost cause. She has a beautiful 9 year old daughter who has lived with her father for the past year as Cousin A's career choice is the drive through cashier for a fast food restaurant and she cannot afford to take care of the child. Now one might think that had she asked the father for child support or perhaps applied for section 8 so that she would have her own place instead of sleeping on Cousin B's couch, that she might have been able to keep her child with her-- but that's too much like right. She has a boyfriend who is a pretty nice guy--once you get past the weed smoking, cursing, and bench warrants. But he is indeed a BOY. 8 years younger then her, barely out of high school, still living with his mom with not a care in the world--except borrowing money from her to buy weed.

My sister, who has the great benefit of NOT LIVING IN THE COUNTRY has lovingly dubbed the three The People Under the Stairs The thing that cracks me up about them is their need to catch me alone so that they can complain about one another- like their own shit doesn't stink! I will say this about them, I am the black sheep between my sister and I, but they make me look GOOD.

So the weekend comes and now I have to figure out what I am going to feed them. Instead of my family of three, I now have to whip up a meal (and provide beer) for 12 people. And there had better be leftovers, because I know the only reason they are coming to my house is because they don't have any food at home and they really want to watch cable! So I do my whole Martha Stewart bit, provide a great meal a few drinks and Tupperware for them to take the leftovers home. My husband hides in the bedroom until all the cooking is done and then comes down to play the sociable host with them while slipping me dirty looks.

It's a trying day. They have gotten on my last nerve with all of the ghetto talk and the running in and out of the house to smoke cigarettes. Not to mention the arguing back and forth over stuff like who's a better rapper 50 Cent or Tupac (and other vital social issues). Cousin C proceeds to cornrow her daughter's hair on my beige couch. I bring her a towel and she looks offended. I tell her the couch is damn near white and I would like for it to stay that way so either use the towel or go in the basement. The night is long and I have a raging headache. So I send them on their merry way with dinner for tomorrow night, a few leftover beers (lest they should remember there were some left and try to come back for them) and a gift card for the grocery store - which buys me at least 2 weeks before they try to come back.

I love my relatives--really I do, but I am not trying to sleep in the bed that they made!