I've got things to share.

Today marks the 3rd anniversary of my father’s death. I’ve been saying that i’ve been in the “midst” of honoring his death anniversary because for the past two years, I was unsure as to what day to honor. According to his obituary, death certificate, etc, my father died on April 12, 2012 but was not found until April 20, 2012. The idea of knowing that my father was lonesome enough to not have been missed for a week has never quite sat well with me. I have decided that from this year forward, I want to honor that week time period. I’m not sure how, but I want to let him know that he was not completely forgotten by everyone. Every year, I think a lot about what I was doing during that time period. How I had just completed putting a poetry performance together inspired by my relationship with him--or lack there of. How I challenged myself everyday from start of April until the day I found out about his death to build up the courage and call him but I was too afraid. At that point, I hadn’t see him for 12 years. I think about all the things I could have done but know that they may or may not have made a difference. 

I also think about who I am today (and who I’ve grown to be just within the last three years alone) and know that there are at 1 key thing about me that would make my father proud:

1) My big heart and how I never give up or never stop loving. Period. This doesn’t need much explanation, but I have loved some pretty challenging people (friends and romantic relationships alike) and have never once doubted or given up. If I’ve ever loved or believed in you then know that I always will. I attribute a lot of that to how I never gave up on my father. Regardless on where he stood with the rest of my family, there was never a moment that I did not like or love him. Even still. 

Within the past couple months, I found myself making up thousands of scenarios of what I thought my fathers life was like in his last few years. When I moved back home to CT in the fall, my grandmother would point out mannerisms I had or sayings that I would say that were similar to my father. I always enjoyed hearing those. When my grandmother passed in March, we spent a lot of time going through family photo albums and I was always interested and at times heartbroken by the photos I saw of my father. He either was never looking at the camera, barely smiling or always wrapped in his thoughts being somewhere else. His energy felt reclusive and modest. 

under the spell of the handout. cody chesnutt.