Every now and then, I will write to my Daddy. Of course, these are nonreciprocated written letters. But they are nonetheless therapeutic as it is renders the illusion of a conversation. When you think about it, it is pretty intriguing how reality is but a self-conception of what is perceived as true and real. And personally, what is real, what is true, is what I FEEL are right and true.
And at this point of time; I feel that the dream I had this morning of you could be a real attempt of you trying to tell me that everything will be alright, and that you are still here and well, to remind me that today is Father's Day. Obviously, I could be reading too much into this, and it could be but an extrapolation and self deceit; but really? Does it matter, if feeling this way actually provides me with some consolation and comfort in your physical absence?
And as usual, every time I write to him, it places me in a position of retrospective introspection. This time, it brought me to a little over 2 years ago. After over a year since we last saw each other; I was fearful. I was afraid that I would forget. It might sound ridiculous to be forgetting somebody who has been a part of the past 16 years of your life. But in great physical distance, past memories are the only thing you might hold on to. And human memory is flawed; memories WILL fade like it or not, especially in absence of physical items that have the ability to reignite quiet memories. I was not afraid that I will forget his looks; I have photos to remind me of that. I was afraid that I will forget his cologne scent, the warmth of his embrace, the sound of his voice. Most of all, I was afraid that I will forget that I am his little gurl. That I am always loved. That we were the center of his world. I was afraid that I will forget that at one point of my life, there were people who loved me regardless of my flaws, that poured their heart and soul into raising me and making the best individual that I could be. I was afraid that I will forget the advice he gave me, the teachings he taught me, the values he instilled in me. I was afraid that I would forget who I am; in times of lost and despair, grief and darkness, this is a valid fear.
That was when I decided to get his name inked. To help me not forget. To a certain extent, it was also done in hopes to fill the emptiness in me. In the absence of everything, I still had him with me, a part of me, now that his name is part of physical self. My tattoo is extremely personal and knowing how stigmatized tattooed individuals are, especially females; I was fairly sensitive about it. I never intended my tattoos to be a public display, nor have I ever intended them to be a projection of vanity. I was never ready to accept glances of bigotry judgments. Hence for many months, I had my wrists bandaged, covered with bracelets, wristbands and such to avoid questions, to avoid silent glares and unspoken judgments.
Well, I no longer hide my tattoos. It doesn't mean that I am comfortable answering questions but I learned that avoiding it, would not help my well being either. Sometimes, I think myself as silly for still being a little uncomfy 5 years later when asked about my father. :)
So why don't I have the need to hide them as I always did?
1. I'm in America. - Honestly, it isn't an anomaly if it is a norm.
2. I have come into terms that if I were to be judged solely based on appearance, and if whoever who judges me erroneously based on such superficial platform; I really shouldn't be quite bothered by such ignorance.
3. To those who know my dad; this too is to remind you of him.
While one of my intentions was to bring him wherever I go, and to remind me of him, to remind others of him; over the years, I have come to realize that there are things that speaks of him louder than permanent ink. It is ME.
I was afraid that I will forget what he has taught me, the impact he had on me; but I forget that I am a product of his love and teachings. Who I am today, is a result of his years of love, attention and hardwork. My parents' life revolved around us. While we have our own distinct characteristics, the essential core values that bind us together, was given by them. They made us.
And who I am, what I do, the way I carry myself; is a reflection of my parents. In other words, daddy is present in my thoughts, my actions, my words. He is ALWAYS with me, and NEVER left me. He has, is and will always be a part of me for I am his daughter. Always will be.
Knowing that I am a reflection of my parents, my family, my upbringing; I always strive to uphold this expectation of being a daughter of really great individuals. Individuals who are well loved and respected by the people whom lives they have touched through their generosity, love, kindness and wisdom. I just dont want my family to be unfairly represented through my flaws and actions.
I guess, what I'm trying to say is that... Who I am today.. The good part at least; is my parents doing. What I have accomplished, is for them. And that, my daddy lives through me. I hope to those who knew him; could see a little part of him in me. To make him proud; is the reason why I'm still going. For him, and for my mom.
So inked or not, apart or not; I am Burt's baby girl (one of his baby girls) and nothing will ever change that. And if one day, if I ever forget that, I just need to look within me (not at wrist). He's here, in my heart.
Happy Father's Day daddy =D
Love,
Vee.
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