Happy Father’s Day Papa.

I woke up this morning with such heaviness in my heart. I didn’t think I’d crave your presence the way I did. I tried to stay off social media today to avoid seeing my friends with their fathers, but that was useless. I tried writing the next blog post; that plan failed.

My mind ran a marathon today. You never got the chance to have the typical “what are your intentions with my daughter” interrogation with CP, or have him tell how you, as one man to another, how he feels about your daughter. You won’t get to walk me down the aisle, or meet your future grandchildren.

Today was hard- much harder than i anticipated. I knew this was coming for six months, and still couldn’t brace myself for the impact.

This is the first Father’s Day mom hasn’t made rice and pigeon peas with stewed pork. That was your favorite meal. You always said grandma ate pork every day of her life and lived to be 80-something.

I didn’t cook today: I don’t think I even ate a real meal. I barely wanted to get out bed, but I forced myself to go for a walk. I thought about my commutes home from school and work, I was almost sure to see you walk around the corner of our block and head to Mike’s newsstand to play the lotto and buy a chocolate bar. Every day, I walk up that block and want nothing more than to see you come around that corner. I’ll always imagine you walking up that block with me.

There’s a Kit-Kat in the freezer. I love you daddy. Happy Father’s Day.


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