Hello Beautiful People! I hope you are keeping safe and sound.
21st June was Father’s Day.
A bittersweet day for a girl who has lost her first earthly hero. As it’s rightly said, a girl’s hero is her father.
However, like Elisha having to watch Prophet Elijah his mentor, a man he called My Father, “charioted” up to Heaven; all I am left with, is the Mantle that flutters down as I begin to feel my father’s absence. That, and all the memories.
The memories of tough discipline, gentle instructions, his listening patient ears, as I nearly chatter his ears off… By the way? If my father didn’t loose his handsome ears for all my yakking, then no one can loose theirs for listening to others. Just said, I should put that out there.
I learnt the art of listening (eventually) because my father listened to me.
Because of that, I tried to do as he instructed, because I didn’t want to displease the only one after God who understood me.
It was a journey for him, because as a child I remember him, saying he didn’t understand me, usually, after I have been caught in an indiscretion. He would scold me. Then he gets real quiet, as if he was trying to solve the great mystery behind my behaviour. And then, like he was speaking to himself, he would say, “I can’t just understand…”
And I would feel sad and then resolve to not worry my daddy again. Which unfortunately, never happened.
Eventually, he began to understand me, and he began to teach me on what to do.
My dad is an angel.
I adore my daddy and I miss him. I suspect I always will.
Now, his Mantel has rested right on the floor in front of me.
I just need to pick up my courage and the Mantle to cross the Jordan river….