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[grannysconversations-blog]

What Ever Happened to Daddy’s Little Girl on Father’s Day?!

Today is Father’s Day in the United States!  The one holiday that gets the least amount of support.  Think about it...  People celebrate Cinco de Mayo more than Father’s Day; many of which have never stepped foot in the country of Mexico.

This week, I don’t think I’ve seen one hallmark commercial making us cry, like we can guarantee to see leading up to Mother’s Day.  I’ve heard more man-bashing jokes on the radio.  I was even at an event last night where the people behind me said “I ain’t giving [him] $#it!”  Hmmm...why are we so angry at men?

Okay, I have a theory.  Go back to childhood and think about the first man in your life.  Was he missing because he left your mama to raise you alone?  Alone to the point that part of your heart that needed “a man” to develop and to “feel” that God-given desire for protection of a man was left empty.  Was it like the absence left a hole in your heart?

Now, let’s take it a step further.  The hole is still there, but you are five years old.  Your mama remarries or moves in a man you do not know.  In your mama’s head, “This will save my child.  He or She needs a male figure in there life.  This is going to work.”

What mama doesn’t know is for the last few years, that hole in their little child’s heart has already been filled with something.  

That something is...

“What did I do wrong?  

Why didn’t my daddy stay for me?  

Why doesn’t he love me?  

Why doesn’t he come see me?  

Mama says some mean things about him, but that makes me hurt.  When she says “You acting like your daddy!”, it makes me feel like I’m a bad person too.  

I am half of my daddy forever.  Just because he left her I still want a chance to know him so I can understand that half of me.

Thus, the hole is filled with droplets of rejection, confusion, guilt and a craving to be whole.  The new man doesn’t have a chance to fill that whole.  Now, he can create a new layer on top, but he will NEVER be able to dig out what he doesn’t know is there and make that child whole again.

You see until we take the time to sit down and discuss the details of why the father left or why mama had to leave, no matter how painful it is for the words to be voiced, the hole can’t be healed.  Until we take the time to reassure the child, in detail, that they are not the reason the father left and that they did not do anything to cause the rejection, the hole will never heal.

We can’t fix it by showering the child with gifts and saying I’m the mother and father.  That just makes it worse.  We can’t say, but your stepfather loves you and has always been there for you.  The stepfather fixed the mother, NOT the child.  

The reason I can speak so honest and raw on this subject is because my father was not in my life.  My mother had to flee an abusive relationship three times.  She tried to make the marriage work and stay, but after the last physical blow, she left with only a bus ticket, one bottle and one diaper in hand.  

At the age of two, she found a new husband to feel her void and she had hope that it would give me a father too.  Thinking, “He held her and fed her on our first date, he will be a great dad.”  However, she didn’t take the time to realize he had two older children that he did not spend time with or take care of.  She was blinded by love after abuse.

He was “there” but “not there” my entire childhood.  He provided for us and worked hard, but there were no hugs, no father-daughter outings.  No after school talks.  My layer never grew on top of my hole.

Then my biological father came around and the two men became jealous of each other.  In my head if felt they wanted me to make a choice.

After years of barely any contact, and an attempt to kidnap me, my mama didn’t feel comfortable.  Fear set in, placing a fence around my heart’s hole.

The memories I have are coming to town, picking me up, an awkward hug, dropping me off at my aunt’s house... taking me home.  Random calls, “I have five minutes left on my calling card so i thought I’d call you.”  Adult - “Can you wire me money?”...cuss me out, click, dial tone.

Yes, that’s all I thought remembered.  Then, he died in October 2008.  My heart’s hole flat-lined.  “Nooooo, we ran out of time.”  Yes, the reality is despite the behavior of my father, I craved him.  I craved to know that piece of me.  I STILL wanted him love his little girl.  Writing this poem brought me closure...

Whatever happened to Daddy’s Little Girl?

There is a lil girl that sits in a hole in my heart The formation of which she had no part A prisoner of a war before her birth How much is a little girl worth? No money is needed, just a father’s loveLove from her earthly father to balance out the love from above.

From the center of my heart she cries:

Daddy, tell me about your yesterday, so I can learn what may be in my tomorrow? To understand the times in your life there may have been some sorrow

Daddy, when I’ve had a bad day, can you just hold me in your arms for a moment to make me feel that my fears have gone away? And when the world has beat me down and I look to you for a sense a stability, will you listen to my hurt making me believe that ‘making it all okay’ is in your ability? 

Daddy, can I just sit on your lap and stare at you for a while to see where I fit in your reflection? And when I get older can you help me understand another man’s rejection?

Because it is my heart that understands why some love passes through, but doesn’t remain Always falling through the hole in my heart, unable to comfort the hidden pain 

Amending the words of Julia Roberts, ‘I was just a girl, standing in front of a man asking him to love me?’ 

How do you fill a void someone else created? Leaving a little girl’s love with a need to be emancipated Yes, from bondage of the lack of a father’s love A vital need implanted from our heavenly father above. 

Why couldn’t you love me ... aren’t I loveable, she cries Wiping away the constant trail of tears from her eyes 

Wait, maybe just maybe, you were the one that needed to be loved As a child maybe you were the one that was never hugged? Maybe it is I that should have held on a little longer before saying goodbye And maybe I could have been the one to pick up the phone to just say hi 

Suddenly the hole in my heart closes, but not because is has been filled with the love desired But because a life has just ended, the father’s love has now become expired A period has ended an unfinished sentence A comma was inserted before the last line and now this story of unfulfilled love no longer has time. 

How do you say goodbye to a father you never had a chance to know? How do you learn to pick up the pieces of a heart you didn’t break and let go? How do you learn how to let a man love you when in you a man’s love had no foundation? How do you make a heart complete that had a defect before its formation?

 How do I forgive and stop blaming you for everything I couldn’t do? If only you knew that I loved you despite the fact that I couldn’t get the love I needed from you But now that you’re gone the book of ‘a daddy’s lil girl’ will be temporarily shut And a bandage will have to be placed on this emotional cut

If only I knew then what I now know today... 

I would hold you in my arms, I would take your unknown pain away I would thank you for all you’ve done, forgive all your mistakes There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to hear your voice again Sometimes I want to pick up the phone and call you, but I know you won’t be there I’m sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn’t do Now that I reflect I’m the one who hurt myself, by hurting you. 

So whatever happened to daddy’s lil girl? From the lack of a father’s love will she continue to suffer? The answer remains unknown for now, and although she still sits in that hole in my heart, I’m the one that will have to love her.

You see I had let the bad consume my good memories.  Later I remember the couple of years he wrote me letters.  I hold on to those times and let that be the person I remember.  I realized he didn’t have a real father figure to teach him how to be a good father.

We don’t hate the men, we hate the cycle that causes men to carry on certain behaviors.  Let’s stop the cycle and not be afraid to share our story to truly HEAL!!

[grannysconversations-blog]

I Don’t Have Time for This?!

A couple of months ago, I had to actually sit down and let the wisdom from one of Granny’s Conversations’ cards heal me.  During the first part of April, I begin to experience shooting pains radiating from my nipple towards the cavity of my right breast.  At first, I chalked it up to my fibromyalgia (a chronic nerve pain disease that feels like random electric shocks all over your body).  So, I ignored it and continued on.  The pain turned to internal burning and the change in my breast’s appearance--that I had overlooked--started forming a larger knot through my nipple.  “Okay, maybe it’s time to go to the doctor.”

Now, before you fuss, by nature women deal with a lot of pain and so it usually takes a lot before we go to the doctor.  However, God always steps in to intercept our carelessness! 

Sitting in the cold waiting room in a gown and a robe, I sit alone awaiting my first mammogram.  Now, we have all heard the horror stories from our mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers.  

“Child, there’s this cold metal machine that SMASHES your breast flat!  It’s the worst thing ever!”  

Oh, how they exaggerate.  

As the technician guides me over to this machine with a plastic piece barely pressing on my breast, I’m like “seriously”?  Pap smears are worse than this!

Anyway, I digress.  After the images were taken, there was an awkward silence and the once cheerful tech just said, “go back to the waiting room because they need to do an ultrasound.”  (Now granted I’m trying to do all of this on my lunch break; just a quick visit right?  Doc said they just need to drain it, go down to the breast center to be safe... no worries.)  

As I wait patiently, a new person comes to greet me and ask more questions about my medical history.  I grow weary and my stomach churns.

“Ma’am, come this way and de-robe.  We need to do an ultrasound.”  

The room is dark, the cold gel plopped on my breast feels like ice.  She is not friendly at all.  I sigh, then just close my eyes and start to daydream...anywhere but here.  [I start decorating my house... "ooh yes, a white daybed with purple fuzzy pillows and...”]  [Interruption] 

“I’m sorry, I need to get someone to help me with this.”  

Another tech enters, “Okay, I got it... over to the left, oh there it is.  Is that red?  Yep... mark it with arrows....” [Daydream... I try to block them out... my stomach churns more... “purple pillows and a nice throw or maybe...”] 

“Do you want me to measure it?”  

“Not yet?”  “I’m going to get the radiologist.”  [“Purple pillows and maybe...”]  

In walks the radiologist, very serious.  He looks at the paperwork and then looks at the monitor.  “How are you doing Ms. Maryland?  You have a tumor..” [Everything then goes in slow motion]  

[“Purple pillows.. huh? tumor? ummm..  how?”]

As I dressed and traveled back to work, the words in my card, “You Will Get Through This,” played in my head... the first line of the card reads, “someone hit pause on your life without permission...”  All I could think was, selfishly, “I don’t have time for this!”  I have a show coming up in two weeks, I have obligations, promises I have made, I’m trying to buy a house.  God, what is the deal?

You see, serious illnesses don’t pencil themselves into your life.  They don’t call ahead and see if they can be fit in and they sure as hell don’t let you know how long they are staying or how much time they are going to take up in between.  They, not only, monopolize your time, but also your MIND.  No matter how much faith you have or how positive you are, cancer is SCARY!  And waiting for biopsy results is like watching grass grow!  You go through your routine, you take care of your responsibilities and you keep a smile on your face so no one worries, but on the inside you are crumbling.  You are secretly planning your funeral, you are kicking your butt for letting your cancer insurance lapse and you are wondering why toxins decided to pick your body.

But that’s the beauty of Granny’s Conversations, LLC, these “seasons of life”--that everyone is scared to talk about or ACT like doesn’t happen to them or their family--don’t have to be a shameful place.  

Remember, it’s Sunday afternoon and we are at granny’s kitchen table, ear hustling for that “confidential talk” of the grown folk.

Well, I made it through my mini journey.  I was blessed that my tumor was benign, however, due to its location and the blood supply keep it growing through my nipple I had to endure a partial mastectomy and loose my ability to breast feed my future child.  Yet, my army of friends and loved ones held my hand and were there to “press play when it all started to make sense.”

Remember, if you can identify with this season, “you will get through this!”

Love,  Granny

[grannysconversations-blog]

Welcome Home! “Come On In Child!”

Welcome to the mind of Granny's Conversations, LLC.

With this blog we are creating a place that feels just like Granny’s kitchen table on a Sunday afternoon.  Picture it, church shoes are kicked off and granny’s knee highs are creeping down along with the run in the stocking.  Everyone is fishing for a snack as pots and pans are starting to stir around on the stove.  The men folk are headed for the remote until the TV starts watching them during their afternoon nap.  Yes!  There is nothing like a Sunday afternoon.

Well, what I remember most is hanging around the kitchen table to ear hustle that grown folks gossip.  You know, those confidential conversations filled with “hmmm”, “that’s what I heard,” and “shut your mouth.”

That’s where we are in this space, this blog...we are at Granny’s kitchen table. So, sit back, kick your shoes off and sit awhile.