The memories of a shameless lost that left a black eye and the remorseful pain that was felt is all I havewhich allow me to look back, discover the growth and remember a time I cherished the most. Sometimes, playing it smart may be the end of a new beginning before it starts.
Shame & Remorse
The day was hot, sunny and blue when I rolled the dice, borrowed a friends rented car and headed out on the road with a suspended license. There was surprisingly light traffic. I was petrified of the unknown, constantly looking in the rear view mirror. A nervous wreck, I was the entire trip. There was a part of me that was full with excitement. I became anxious as the drive from Atlanta to Virginia to see my son became near. He had no idea I was coming. My plan was to show up and surprise him. The thought of it being a mistake never dawn on me. I was over his mother along with any rekindling possibilities. It felt right, at the time. The GPS directed me to the suburbs where I would finally get the chance to see my son after 5 long years. How can a father go for so long without seeing his own flesh and blood? As I pulled up and sat in the car, in front of their house. My son was outside playing soccer with his friends on the lawn. I noticed how big he had gotten. My son looked so happy. He wasn’t a little boy anymore. He was turning into a young, promising neophyte. I couldn’t pull myself from out of the car. I looked around the neighborhood and knew I could never provide the food, the shelter and the security in such a community I was visiting. It wasn’t like I owned a successful online bespoke store selling vintage clothing and other items to make all ends meet. Not working as a poor slob at an dead end job at $10 an hour, $311 a week. That was my main reason for not dating. Right then was when I felt a faintknot in my stomach as my speedo’s shrunk and cut off all circulation to my brain. I just stayed in the car and drove away. I was such a punk to come all this way just to turn around, beat up myself and cry during the drive back home. I felt my child whom is a big boy now is better off without me in his life. I didn’t want any of my misfortune and short comings to rub off or influence this happy child’s innocence. So I just drove off back to Atlanta with my tail between my legs cursing the air and throwing a tantrum fit, feeling empty and alone with my expired suspended drivers licenses. Perhaps to never see my son ever again. I wasn’t intimidated or afraid to see his mothers face. The setting was clear. I became a disappointment to myself and a disgrace.
I wonder how many millions of people have experienced similar heartache in their lives? The sacrifice of a relationship, a lost of a child or loved one must be hard and difficult. But, to make a conscious choice to leave a child behind, I’ll always wonder and still to this day have my doubts. This has been one of the most difficult and troubling conundrums for me to ponder. Who would willfully volunteer to share such a sad, pathetic and lonely story of shame and remorse without recourse? What poor schmuck would allow another man to raise his child? How does a half of a man deal with a child calling another man his father? Time to get my shit together and claim my right to be in my son’s life. I have so many countless ancient fossils, skeletons buried underground. It’s time to release and share these untold stories along with the pain I’ve felt when thinking I was doing the right thing. I look back on a time when I wasn’t strong and my thinking was wrong.
The weight of the emotional and financial burden of life reflects and projects. How there’s no honor in pain. No reward or medal granted for suffering and making poor and questionable decisions.
He was already half in the bag when I tripped over him laying, spreaded out across the kitchen floor with a bottle of Brass Monkey wrapped in a brown paper bag sticking out his back pocket of his favorite faded blue jeans. (Come to think about it he only owned one pair). He was mumbling… Continue Reading
When our poor choices has us playing the victim instead of reflecting and making a change. – A Recipe For Failure – Harlan’s golden hair blew in the air. He lived against the grain and didn’t abide by any man rules but his own. His smile was soft and angelic. He had a sexy smooth swag about… Continue Reading
I’ve left an open letter taped upon your door. I’m praying it finds you in good spirits, not thrown away onto the floor and ignored. – The Choice Is Yours – So, you’re grown now and nobody can tell you what to do. People can only suggest. You’re sweet like the scent of morning rain. People complement… Continue Reading