Remembering Daddy

Being the perfectionist that I am, and that my goal for this year is to be FEARLESS, this simple act of writing without editing for five minutes, has become a good thing for me.

Five Minute Friday. 

Five Minute Friday

When I Remember, it’s my childhood and it is pain that floods in. My soul must taste bitter, most of all. I don’t want this, I wouldn’t choose it, but without Grace, remembering Hurts.

That’s me, on the right.

I try hard these days not to live in the past, to settle into that old startled, distress filled and petrified place of childhood fear; that place makes me feel

Broken, that’s the place that makes me feel Useless.

That place of remembering you, daddy,

Hurts.

The fact is that you hurt me.  And when I remember you, my child heart is bursting with your disappointment, your anger, and my tears.  The flood of tears from your slow angry glance.  You just looked at me,

And I fell apart.  And then ironically my tears angered you. What kind of a daddy is angry when his child cries?  What kind of daddy SHOUTs and shakes, when he looks at his little girl?

Crushed by him, my daddy that’s who.

It’s only Grace that helps me forget.  That rewrites on my soul what FATHER means, that changes me, and though it cannot rewrite the past I know it’s only forgiveness that pushes back the memories and covers the pain and eventually, one day, I believe I will be able to remember

Differently.