Dad & Me – Wedding Day 1993

My father passed on Sunday, May 13^th.  For the last twenty-five years or so, my father and I were mostly estranged.  Including family gatherings like funerals and weddings, the number of times that I saw or spoke to my father could probably be counted on one hand.

For as long as I can remember the feelings I felt about my father were best summed up by three emotions: anger, hurt, and disappointment.  Anger because he routinely did many of the things he raised me to believe were unbecoming of a man.  Hurt because he never seemed pleased or even remotely satisfied by any of the things that I accomplished or were going on in my life.  Disappointed that I would not know what it felt like to have the Hallmark card commercial Father’s Day experience with him.

Dead to Me

Today, I awoke to a realization that the man whom I often deemed to be dead to me was in fact no more.  In an ironic way – a satirical fashion befitting my relationship with my father – the other 50% of my genetic composition expired on Mother’s Day 2018.

On the National celebration of mothers, the day that I have consistently and happily saluted the one parent who I’ve always thought of in the most joyous and affectionate fashion, my father passed.  Now not only will I never know what it is to share the Hallmark card commercial Father’s Day experience with him, but I will also be forced to think of my father each Mother’s Day.

The Memorial Footlocker

My Father’s Footlocker

Since childhood, I’ve kept a figurative footlocker with memories of my father.  In that footlocker, I stored all the events, activities, and conversations with him which left me angry, hurt, and/or disappointed.

This metaphoric memorial footlocker of my father was full.  No that’s not true.  My father’s memorial footlocker was more than full it was overflowing – symbolically bursting at the seams.

I had fifty-two years of anger, hurt and disappointment locked inside his footlocker.  For five decades I stored every instance of annoyance, each offensive episode, and all moments of discontentment with and from my father.  Every single bad and distressing memory was stuffed aggressively inside his footlocker.  That was until today.

Refreshing Rain

Last night, the night of his passing, it stormed into the early morning.  However, when I rose this morning not only was there no sign of a storm, but the sun was beaming through the heavens.

Dark memories symbolic of last night’s hail storm and clouds are what I mostly kept in my father’s footlocker.  Unexpectedly though, the storm and the sun’s subsequent magnificence inspired me to do something other than harbor ancient dim memories in my father’s footlocker.  Somehow the refreshing rainfall washed away the gloom so that I could finally recall constructive memories of my father.

So today, I started cleaning out his footlocker.  In place of the space previously occupied by anger, hurt, and disappointment, I’ve begun loading love, peace, and happiness.

Love, Peace, and Happiness

My Father’s Footlocker

I’ve always loved my father even when I didn’t like him.  After all, he is half responsible for me enjoying the most precious gift – life.  How could I not love he who helped to bring me into existence?  How could I not love he who – by helping give me life – made it possible for me to have a son of my own?

When I state that I’m at peace with his passing it is not meant to suggest that I’m glad he’s gone.  I’m not!  I simply accept the truth about the Great Circle of Life – knowing full well that our time on this earth is both frail and finite.  Still, while I have no illusions that he and I would be anything other than estranged, I very much wish that he was still alive so that he could be here for his mother, daughter, and wife.

And I’m happy.  I’m pleased to have good memories to put in his footlocker.  I realize that although I will never enjoy a Hallmark card commercial moment with him, I have joyous takeaways such as invaluably enriching life lessons.

My Father’s Footlocker

Staring into the sun this morning, I felt surprisingly okay.  Moreover, I felt compelled to encourage children like me who struggle with a parental relationship.  Do whatever you can to find a way to put joy and sunshine into a parent’s footlocker rather than pain and rain.  Storing anger, hurt, and disappointment about a parent for the entirety of your life is counterproductive – it’s personally exhausting and potentially harmful to other relationships.

And if you are a parent, remember that you have a relational legacy with your children.  It is doubtful that a building, a monument, or charitable foundation will be created or named after us.  Thus, the only way we will be remembered, the only way our family name and lineage will be carried forward favorably is through our children.  Give your best to your children daily so that your children can be their best now and long after you are gone.

My Father’s Footlocker

One last thing, Tommie L. Turner if you are watching and/or listening, I want you to know that I hope you found your beach where daily you can bask in the sun, walk barefoot through the sand, routinely put your toes in the ocean, wear jeans and t-shirts exclusively, and share a “classic story” with all those who buy a drink at your tiki bar.

I love you dad and I promise you that I will do my best to bring honor to your name so that you won’t ever be forgotten.  Most of all, I promise to break our family’s generational curses, live a life that will make my son proud, and never miss an opportunity to have a Father’s Day Hallmark card commercial moment with your grandson.