In most instances, there’s a burden of guilt that weighs heavily on me whenever I express my experience with my father. I feel unappreciative of the privilege of having what many call a present father. Which as most of us know is not a common sight in our communities.

The drinking escapades did not bother me as a kid, daddy would rock up as joyful as ever. Bearing sweet treats and throwing jokes. Looking back, this man who conceived me was very intelligent to say the least and I’d only pick that up when he’d had one too many. Eventually though, you grow and realise his habit has had him fall behind in his bond payments and my school fees were in arrears. For those who went to those low fee private schools like I did, many can recall the humiliating experience of being sent to sit in the hall all day at the end of the month because your parents hadn’t made necessary arrangements. For an A student, that was so demotivating and enlightened me to the harsh realities of how unfair life really is.

It didn’t really matter how many straight As and merit awards I brought back home, all were somehow meaningless because daddy never bothered to attend a single one of those ceremonies. The last one of those farces( they gradually became pointless to me) I attended, daddy was very hungover on a Sunday morning as usual. I vividly recall how he refused to look after my little sister, his own child just so my mother would accompany me. The child was a handful so I had to understand why my mother would not be able to come with.

Father had what I’d termed his “weekend special”, the last day you’d get to spend quality time with him in a week would be a Friday. Then afterwards you’d only get to have a meal with him on a Tuesday. On one of his specials, mother was expecting twins. One is unfortunately late and the other is the little sister mentioned earlier, mother went into premature labour one evening. I was a mere 12 year old, I went out in the late hours of the night to try find him. After a failed attempt, in panic I eventually called the emergency services myself. He only later availed himself hours later when my mother was already in hospital. I had to understand.

Again, perhaps I may be overreacting because some have had it worse. I mean he was there most of the time right? To answer that, no. I’ve grown to teach myself not to invalidate my experiences because they have contributed to the person I am today. I would be lying if I said I was not glad to hear of his passing. Finally the weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I would officially be released of the burden of looking after his sick self. The despise for my father got so bad I held a knife against him at some point, it was so out of character.

A part of me is still angry at him, in fact he is the main reason I relate to men the way that I do now. I am distant, I do not let anyone in. What if they disappoint me? I had such high expectations of the first man who had the task of setting an example of what I need to look for in a man but failed dismally. I do however have made it a point to never alter my sister’s perception of him, she received a totally different version of him in the five years he was spared of her life. That for me also gave me another insight , perhaps he wasn’t as bad he just didn’t know better. I was his first child and unfortunately had to bear the brunt of him familiarising himself with this parenting phenomenon. I never got to hear about his relationship with his father so maybe it also would’ve made me more understanding, obviously this didn’t matter in my teens because all I knew was a stranger I shared a home with.

But what can one say, he is still my daddy. I pray he is resting in peace. Despite all this, I did not doubt his love for me because he did not miss out on the opportunity to remind every time he’d gone over the limit. But words just weren’t enough for me.