Happy Birthday Daddy!!

Today, is my fathers birthday. If he was still alive he would have turned 69 years old today. He's been gone for six years now, and I still miss him very, very much. We didn't always have the best of relationships - but I realize that as flawed as he was (who isn't) he was probably one of the best influences in my life. Without him, I know I would have grown into a very different woman.

So because I'm feeling all weepy and grief-stricken - rather than try and write something of my own, I am going to link to a post my sister wrote in his honor on Father's Day 2008. Even if I tried, I couldn't say it any better....


The Lord, in his infinite wisdom, saw fit to call my daddy home three years ago. I took the loss very hard. I was surprised by my level of grief because we didn't have a traditional father / daughter relationship. I probably gave my father the most trouble growing up and it started from toddler hood when I used to refer to him as Robert instead of Daddy like the rest of my siblings. Growing up we would get beatings, yes our parents disciplined us for real, and I would give my father a run for his money..LOL He would be out of breath and exhausted from chasing me around the house but I refused to go down without a fight. I figured if I ran him around a bit he wouldn’t have the energy to hit me. Sometimes my plan back fired because he would be so upset with me for making him run that I would get a few extra licks. My twin brother would take his punishment without trouble just to get it over with. Then as a pre-teen I went through the neck and eye rolling stage where I found myself on the receiving end of many back hands…most times I deserved it. I just didn’t understand him and the demons he was struggling with so we constantly bumped heads. Finally there was the time when I came home pregnant and he promptly told me to get an abortion. For a long while after that we didn’t speak. I think he was more disappointed than angry but then again he didn't really do too much talking to anyone but himself. My daddy was one of those guys you see walking down the street, having a conversation (complete with hand gestures) with himself. He didn't look crazy, I think the average passersby understood he was simply thinking out loud, but not too loud if you know what I mean. He often had a smirk on his face and grumbled when he spoke. As a child he intimidated my friends, needless to say I never had a slumber party. But there was also the flip side to Robert aka Mac. Often times during hot summer days my father would bring candy to all the kids playing outside. Then as a grandfather he always kept pretzel sticks and sweet treats in the house for his grand children. -- CLICK HERE TO READ THE ENTIRE POST

Bernice L. McFadden