Читать книгу Tears to Triumph: - Dawn Marie Daniels - Страница 13

In January 1998, I cried. One would have assumed I cried because I just lost my father. That may have been the surface reason; however, my cries were deeper than that. I really wondered if my father died not knowing that I loved him. I sobbed over and over again because I knew I would never get the answer to this question, at least not in this lifetime.

I was so consumed with the anger I had for him walking out on our family and the endless days and nights of domestic abuse that I never saw the positive in him. He tried the best he could to be the father he thought he should be for us, but he always seemed to come up short. I even remember our “family vacations” to Albany where my dad, mom, brother, and I piled into the car to take the six-hour drive. He made it sound like an adventure, and my brother and I were none the wiser even though my mom sat in the front with a sour look on her face. It may have been on our second annual trip that I realized that we weren’t on a family vacation, but we were really going to Albany so my dad could take care of his traffic tickets that he let go into arrears. My brother didn’t catch on as fast as I did, but for some reason I felt like I had to let him know what was up. Little by little I began to lose faith in my dad.

Not until he was gone was I able to be grateful for his presence. He was never absent from the major milestones in my life. He was present for all the birthdays and graduations; he even rode the Carolina Trailways to Virginia to see his baby girl graduate from college. He was even there for the birth of my firstborn. I never had to fret over any male laying a hand on me because in an instant my dad would be there to handle the situation—the right or wrong way.

Thinking back, I should’ve recognized his shortcomings and that he was a man who made mistakes and would possibly continue to do so, but his love for me was unconditional and should’ve never been questioned. We fought, argued, yelled, and screamed. The worst of all the arguments was the last when he said, “When I’m gone, you’re gonna miss me.” He was never more right.

I’ll never again be daddy’s little girl. Now who will protect me the way that my father did? Who will walk me down the aisle and give me away at my wedding? I don’t know who will, but it won’t be my daddy. I haven’t found the answers to these questions, but I have come across some realizations. I have stayed with a man for over eight years because he reminded me of my dad.

I shed a tear externally for the loss of my father, but internally I have an ocean’s worth of tears. Each day they lessen because as I mature, I know to say “I love you” to those who matter to me, regardless of their shortcomings. Although no relationship is perfect, each is unique and special in its own way, and for the most part, can never be replaced. So my tears are those of selfish regret and not grief.

Seanette Vaughan is a middle school teacher who lives in New York City with her daughter and son.

I Surrender All

Think back to the most difficult and darkest time(s) in your life. How was it different from the ones before? You may have been tired. A mental exhaustion may have set in and clogged your mind, body, and soul. You may have felt like you just didn’t have it in you to fight anymore. It’s the heavy lifting that is the most tiresome, the cleaning up of everyone else’s mess. If you feel that no one understands, we do—and during different points in our lives we’ve been there, sometimes waving the white flag: “I surrender. No more.”

Sometimes all we feel we can do is surrender. The situation we are faced with either feels overwhelming, insurmountable, or it is just one of many things that we have experienced and can’t see an end to the litany of challenges. Either way you look at it, you may need to surrender to the fact that you are not in control of everything. Things happen, and how you deal with situations will only be based on your ability to recognize that surrendering old ways of thinking about things isn’t the same as giving up.

The Woman Tax

Since giving up is not an option, you may be called upon to pull out one more trick from your hat. If you have experienced this, welcome to the woman tax. It’s a birth-to-death tax complete with penalties and interest that automatically puts us in a pool that will require us to work harder and outperform everyone. You’ll be dealing with your issues as well as the challenges of your loved ones. The more efficient and talented you are, the more taxing it is to keep everyone else afloat. There’s always a list to complete, one more telephone call to make, and we are leaned upon for our generosity, our resources, and ideas—never getting much rest, especially from the surprises that take residence in our lives.

Whether it’s family, home, or work—overcoming an enormous obstacle is a successful ending of a struggle; the victory may have been narrow, but you were able to cinch the win. Winning is fluid because a triumph does not require the trophy, but the change that you establish because you have taken on the challenge.