Life Goes On

There’s truly something eerie about flying over my city with my headphones on, staring out my small window, and pretending to talk to my father. But, every time I’m up here, I wonder if he was also afraid to fly. And if his coping mechanism was also journaling his scattered brain while literally being in flight mode, just like me.

I miss him...

At the age of seven, I was already introduced to death multiple times in my life. It quickly began to feel like I was being followed by a dark cloud that fed off my sadness. Every day that I woke up from my nightmares was a relief. Sometimes I’d wake up balled up in my bed, not remembering when or how I fell asleep. While other nights, I’d be tucked and hidden in the closet from the fear that someone was looking for me. If I was in the closet, I’d quickly run and tuck myself in bed so my mom didn’t know of my fears.

No one could know...

But, now that I’m older, I realize that it’s nothing wrong with being afraid of the dark. To feel haunted or lost, while trying to understand the meaning of life and losing it. To not know if ghosts are spirits or spirits are ghosts, or if the common your dad is still watching over you comments were a real thing I should be afraid of or happy about.

Every new year I lived became a surprise and blessing. Once you finally learn how short life can be, your innocence and naivety disappears. You take less risks, overthink every decision, and prioritize safety first. I lived my teen years trying to reach 18 as if it’s an impossible feat that’s a miracle to accomplish. I was afraid of guns, drugs, and fighting. Which were all things that plagued my block at any given time. This made me afraid of people and relationships. All I could really trust was my music and headphones. I listened to Lil’ Wayne, Jay Z, and Eminem as I walked through my neighborhood, trying to build my confidence on my way to school. Some mornings I even listened to “Life Goes On” by 2Pac, pretending that it was my dad’s voice telling me stories about his life.

How many brothers fell victim to the streets?

Rest in peace, there’s a heaven for a G.

Be a lie if a told you that I never thought of death...

These lyrics comforted me. They hugged my ears, and slowly made me feel more tranquil about him being gone. It also made my obsession with living and dying feel, normal. That my battle wasn’t one that I was alone fighting, and that the fear doesn’t have to consume me. Instead, it could help me move forward somehow. I listened closely to the words and recited them like a child repeating after his dad’s wishes. Even if he didn’t really say the words himself.

I miss his voice…

Even as its true sound starts to become a distant memory, quickly becoming faded and distorted. The dreams I have of him used to have our laughs and conversations together, but now they’re mostly muffled or completely silent. He was murdered 24 years ago. With only a short time to equip his child with all he needs to know and fully stamp an impression, he somehow still became my hero.

Even while living a dangerous life, he shielded me from the clock he probably felt ringing loudly in his ears. He didn’t teach me the horrors of losing friends, the pain he felt after he lost his mom in front of the both of us, or the reasons why I didn’t see him every day before he was killed. Anger makes me hate his decision, and wish that he did answer these questions. But, then today I probably wouldn’t see a father. The man who was strong and funny. The man who was serious about family, and loved by those around him. The man who devoted every second we had together to cuddles, silliness, and whatever I wanted. I would just see a man who was afraid. A man who looked over his shoulder every second, and never had time to focus on us because he was too focused on rushing through the moments.

I didn’t have the awareness to know what was truly important back then. Now, I know it’s time. A reminder that only being suspended hundreds of miles over the clouds can give me. So, as I scribble in this journal with my headphones on, flying over my city, staring out my small window, and pretending to talk to my father.

I am reminded to be more present.

I am reminded to not let my fears stop me from living.

I am reminded that I am my father’s son.

And, life goes on…