Second Best, But First Born

Tre: high school days.

I think about how crazy my upbringing was sometimes and there are bits and pieces that stir me up in ways that I cannot clearly understand or explain. 

I am a child of divorce. 

A further description: I am the eldest child from a divorced parents home who remembers so much more than her siblings and who has a lot more good memories of her Father to hold on to than her siblings as well, except her youngest, which is her sister. 

To be frank, I am head over heels about my kid sister. There is nothing (within my power) that I would not do for her. Being nineteen years older than someone gives you such a distinct perspective on life when there’s a need to share experiences and my kid sister comes loaded with questions. She’s an intensely intelligent young lady and I am not surprised by this. Often the saying in our family to her is, “You are so much like Tre.” Or different variations of that phrase and I want to shout to everyone telling her this to stop!

While I’m appreciative of their comparison, I see the dismay and feel the worry from my sister as she struggles to make a name for herself. I am so proud of her. I do not know what it feels like to have a Father raise his daughter beyond twelve years. That connection has to be an intense one and my sister has that. She has had our Father since her birth and at the age of nineteen, he is still very involved in her life. My Father and I only recently began renewing a bond that fell from its pedestal when I was still in grade school and it is awkward, but we are both growing within this process. 

Tre: College Graduation Day.

Last year, my sister entered a University in close proximity to Atlanta, GA. The kid has a full ride, Presidential Scholarship and is excelling in every way possible. Again, I am not surprised. From the moment she began speaking, I could tell that she was going to press on in life in a way that could be considered unstoppable. I did not/ do not worry about her. Not in that realm. I had/have other concerns about her growth, like first heartbreak and how will she heal from that? But, those bridges have not yet formed, so we cannot cross them. 

What sparked this post? Our Father’s worry over her entering school for a higher education four hours away from them. Not within his immediate reach. My kid sister was sheltered. Someone’s eyes was always on her. I grew up quite independent and left for college at eighteen, worked full time, and never returned home. I have been out of school for fifteen years, however, last year, when my sister was beginning to make her path into an unknown world, my Father called me up frantic and nearly in tears. 

My cousin Chrissy & I. I’m the little one with the thick plaits.

“Tre! Hey. Hey.  Can I talk to you? Will you tell me about your college experience?” The question came as an instant gut-punch to me. I thought, “Now, you wanna know about my college experience?! You mean, the one you had no hand in, the one I struggled with, the one in which I worked full time and had classes full time, busted my face too many times to count regarding love because I had no MALE figure to point me in the right direction, the college experience that left me with debt after a lost scholarship?! THAT COLLEGE EXPERIENCE!” I thought these things, but I did not say them. I am good at pushing my feelings to the side in order to cater to someone else’s and I could tell my Father was hurting. The one child he truly raised was beginning to leave the nest. It wasn’t a time for me to break fool on him. 

But, I did so after our phone call. I cried.  I thought about the many years I spent time giving myself to boys, men, girls, women, searching for that love I did not have from my Father, and I just broke down. I screamed. I shouted. And then, I thought about something my Father said before we ended the call and it helped me put things into a better perspective. “You were always so independent. You did everything fast; walked, talked, learned, and became an adult before your time. I did not have to worry about you. You had it altogether. I worry about your sister. She’s not like you in that aspect, baby. ” 

Tre: Christmas of ’82.

I knew what he was trying to say, but it didn’t make me feel any more loved. It actually made me feel like he had an idea of who I was but did not know I had to be who I was because of what I did not have, a Father. Parents do not know what they do to their children unless they’re told. They do not see us when our pain is most visible. In that moment of my breakdown, I felt second best. I felt as though my life was no longer a concern, I am grown, there’s nothing more to my growth that can be watered on me to help me grow even stronger, and I did not like that feeling. 

I have yet to tell my Father how his asking about my educational life so many years after it has taken place makes me feel and I doubt that I will. When you have voiced your opinion on so many things with one person and you get reactions that are often wrought with accusations and finger-pointing, you learn to just be quiet and accept it for what it is. It is a part of life that keeps me on my toes. Truthfully, I have to be. 

There will come a day when my sister will ask me of my college experience and I will tell her all that she wants to know. But, that day isn’t here yet. But, I will be ready when it arrives. 

Tithes & Offerings

Finding Peace With My Father

woman
Courtesy of Pinterest

I am not searching
For my kin
Men give me hives
And women drive me crazy

You wanted me
Settled by now —
Baby hipped, bare feet
No cause for
Questions

But, I am full of
Questions
All needing answers.
I hold back.
Every year, I chicken out.
Clucked by the best, my
Demons fester and you
Pop up when I
Am trying to understand
Where to go from here.

The path I have taken
Only leads me to
The same circle I have
Met for 25 years,
Incomplete.
I step out of the circle,
Refusing its enclosure,
I draw a line.

You cannot cross it.

My heart blocks
The pain of a
Lost child begging to
Be understood, wanting
To be heard in the
Noisy body of
Cheerful congregations.
They pass
Our family secrets around
In the collection plate.

One drops a 20.
He needs change.
He knows our story
From front to back,
I do not sit next to him.
Each secret floats, heavy
Like coins, clinging
To musty bills,

Testimonies are next.

You say, “I have a confession
To make. I love my children.
I would die without them.
I could die without them.
Nothing has changed.”
You are happy.
Beaming, proud Daddy
Wishing to knee-us-up
And bounce us until
We lose ourselves.

I see your happiness.
I reach into my clutch
As the plate comes around,
Pull out a smile
And I tell my neighbor,
“Pass it along.”


Originally published on June 18, 2017, via Medium. Happy Father’s Day!

But, What If?

Taken during our morning walk on Saturday, June 09, 2018.

Today, my Mother asked
me if I ever had suicidal
thoughts and I nodded
“Yes”.

I glanced in Jernee’s direction,
hinting that she’s the reason
I am still alive.

The reason why
I did not
could not leave
this world before
I am called.

I watched my Mom
“What If” me without
opening her mouth and
I said,
“But, I am here, Mom.

I choose to
live.