I Walk In The Footprints My Father Left On My Heart

My father named me.

For years I was angry at him for leaving me with a cruel mother when I was ten years old. In my culture, children would be spanked or beaten for whatever reasons the parents can find. When I am beaten, I would cry for my father.

I wasn’t aware that it was love why, when my mother hurt me, I would cry for my father.

He never hit us or raised his voice to any of his children.

Of my four children, I hit one of my daughters only once. And that is out of frustration. I hate cruelty and I do my best not to share it, like my father.

He took the time to talk to us, was gentle and show us kindness and love.

I talk a lot to my kids and think with love and understanding when raising them.

My father never allowed us to see him doing anything bad or wrong, in any way to anyone.

I realized that he was setting an example for us to follow because he was aware that his children are watching.

I unconsciously did the same and my children and husband called me Miss Perfect.

In my culture, parents don’t tell us that they love us.

I wasn’t born from love, but I learned love and to love from how my father treated us and others. The kind way he handled many things in life. He was good to everyone.

I have never seen my father be cruel to anyone, humans or animals.

I subconsciously adapted this principle. Before I share cruelty, I walk away.

I think with kindness. It took years for me to realize that I learned kindness at a young age from my father. He had the kindest heart.

He was peaceful and didn’t war with my mother when she abused him. In fact, I have never seen him at war with anyone. He gets along with everyone and was well-liked by the people in our yard. The opposite for my mother.

I am at war with no one. I am not completely at peace with everyone, but still, I am at war with no one.

My father loves to read, and his knowledge has no boundaries. We spend hours talking about life, current world events, his father who died the year after I was born. And his half-brothers and sister that I don’t know. I got to know my father all over again.

I love to read, and learning mode is never off.

My father was quiet, you will never know he is home. He has a few friends and hangs out sometimes.

I am an introvert and stay away from everyone.

He plans everything, uses lots of common sense, and is good with his finances. He has no credit cards and is debt free most of his life. He explains the value of handling my finances with common sense, wisdom, and self-control as it was a long-term thing.

I have been debt free for years. I think economically and only have a debit card.

My father loves to walk and lived to be eighty-nine years old. He was healthy with no lifestyle diseases. But he was an alcoholic.

I am a living walk-a-ton, and I don’t drink.

My father loves to think, and he thinks about life, living, and his actions.

I am a deep thinker and isn’t afraid to go behind reasons to find understanding of things.

I am like him in many ways and do many of the things he does, unaware. It’s as if I am walking into his footprints. My husband reminds me many times that I am so much like my father. He often teased, “I am glad that your father is the way he is.”

I love and thank him for being who he is, thus making me loving myself more.

Going back into my life, happiness is attached to the memories of my father.

Again, the opposite of my mother.

When my father left, I was devastated. I couldn’t believe that he would leave me with a mother that couldn’t love me or any of her six children. We had a bond because even though I was young, I was aware of the emotional, physical, and psychological abuse she dished out to him. In those days they didn’t have a name for it.

They do now.

I remember her embarrassing him in front of one of his friends, dragging him by his waist inside our house, and taking away all his money.

I watched my father suffer in silence many times. Sometimes she cooks and leaves no dinner for him. He was the breadwinner. She was unemployed.

My older sister reminds me that on a certain Sunday when were children, she cooked and shared dinner for all of us and none for him. We offered him some of our dinner and he refused. Both of us refused to eat unless he eats. My mother would beat us for that. He went to his bed hungry.

I refuse to endure what he did and use his life experience to make better life decisions for myself.

He never raised a hand to hit her or defend himself. He walked away.

I did the same walking away from a past abusive relationship.

He was a Plummer and a Jack of many trades. I remember as a child, the light in the tenement we lived in went out. No one could fix it. He came home, tired, but fixed it and everyone got back their light.

He attends PTA meetings after work. My mother didn’t, even though she wasn’t employed and had the time.

When he left, our mother criticized and belittled him, trying to get us to hate him. One brother and a few of my sisters believed her. I didn’t, because I saw things, she did to him that they didn’t. I felt all his pain.

He never said one bad or negative word against her.

I compared the outcome of his life to hers. Life paid him back for the good he gave and paid her back for the cruelty she shares with humanity.

I learned from my father that do good and good will follow you. He left footprints on my heart allowing me to follow him and all the good things he did when he was alive. I am glad I am like him.

It took years for me to understand that if he didn’t leave, he would have died an early death. He fled to save his life so that he could be there to help us when we needed him in the future.

And he didn’t fail me.

I forgave him and we bonded for years. I send him Father’s Day and Birthday cards every year.

He died June 7, 2011, and was buried on the Eve of Father’s Day on June 18, 2011.

Father’s Day is double pain for me. But I resemble him, so when I look in the mirror every day, I see him, in me. I know he is permanently with me. I continue living the way he did, by walking into the footprints he left on my heart.

Life pays me back with many good things as it did to him.

I love my father and am grateful I am like him. He is responsible for all the good things that are in my life.

I love you, Daddy!

Thank you for reading this piece. I hope you enjoy it.