Understanding a Father’s Love

People make preparations daily for death, but I would never be able to believe that anyone would be humanly possible to emotionally prepare themselves for it. It was hard for me to believe my father was going to pass away so suddenly and unexpectedly, especially at a time where I felt our relationship was growing stronger.

New Birth

It was May 24, 2010. My eyes opened and pain immediately filled my entire body. I had just given birth to my first-born son, Elijah Jimil. I looked around to find someone in sight and there was no one there. A nurse came to my bedside saying, “Ms. Miles, everything is okay. We just need you to rest.” 

 “Where is my son?” I questioned. My mom makes her way in the room as tears immediately filled my eyes to run down my face. She kissed my face as I told her how much pain I was in. The pain didn’t amount to how bad I wanted to lay eyes on my son. In the shadows, I see a man walking in the room, with a huge smile on his face. He gets to the bed, kisses me on my forehead, and says, “Daddy is so proud of you baby.” Then, there were even more tears.

The nurse says, “Only one person can be in the room at a time.” My dad started to exit while explaining to the nurse, not very nicely might I add, how he was just trying to check on his baby. He walks out telling me he was going to check on his grandson.

The next day, my dad came back to the hospital and held Elijah for almost two hours. He didn’t say much of anything to me. I even remember dozing off a few times because of the medication. Every time I looked up, my dad was rocking and staring between Elijah and whatever I had on the television.

He’s Gone…

On July 23, 2010, my father was sent home on hospice after fighting colon cancer for five years. The family gathered at His home as he was made comfortable. We all disbursed to our own homes that evening with a plan of bringing food the next day. By the time I made it back to the house, my father’s breathing had become shallow and very faint. I was in the kitchen fixing a plate of food and I heard my sister say, “He’s gone y’all.” My body hit the floor. I finally made my way into the room where his body laid. 

Growing up, my little sister would be considered the “spoiled” child or “Daddy’s Girl”. As a child, I confused being spoiled with being more loved. One day I actually told my dad I felt he loved my sisters more because they were always getting what they wanted from him. His words to me were, “You have the same opportunities to get what you want and need from me, but you don’t ask.” He was right. In my mind, at the time I felt like it was wrong of me to always go and ask my dad for anything when my little sister was always going to him already for everything. I also felt like I didn’t call him enough or spent enough time with him to ask him for things I wanted or needed. I just never wanted my dad to feel like I only called him for those reasons. Point blank, I never in no shape, form, or fashion, felt unloved by my father, but as a young girl, I never knew how and what it meant for a father to show real love without having gifts and things I desired. As a teenager and an adult, as I grasped the concept of what a father’s love should consist of, I realized I looked forward to meals with my dad, going to church with him, and laughing until my stomach hurts more than having the materialistic things from him. Thankfully, I mastered this concept early on where that perception of love would not boil over into my relationships as an adult and successfully pass that on to my children.

Losing my father was TOUGH for two reasons. One, I had just left my home church a year before and he had become my pastor and baptized me. As my pastor, our relationship grew stronger than I could’ve ever imagined. I saw my father in a different light and didn’t want that light to dim from my life. I felt as if I was losing my new best friend. The second reason was Elijah. The look in his eyes on the day my son was born was inexplicable. My sister told me he preached about Elijah from the Bible for three weeks straight. When we were cleared to leave the house, after church was over, he gave the benediction and said, “Bring me my grandson.” You could see the joy in his eyes and hear it in his smile when he called to check on him. It pained me to come to grips with my dad not being able to see Elijah and the other grandchildren grow up. Even now, it hurts sometimes to think about how he never got a chance to meet all the other grandkids who have been born since his passing. 

What I Have Learned

People make preparations daily for death, but I would never be able to believe that anyone would be humanly possible to emotionally prepare themselves for it. It was hard for me to believe my father was going to pass away so suddenly and unexpectedly, especially at a time where I felt our relationship was growing stronger. Through my father’s passing, I was able to apply our bond to his wife, my stepmother, and my sisters. There were many things I did not know my father endured throughout his years of living. Knowing what I know now helped me to respect and love him even more than I did before. My prayer since he has passed and forever is hoping he knew just how much I loved and appreciated him before he left this earth and live daily spreading as much love and appreciation as I can to my family and friends so I won’t ever have to wonder with anyone else.

About Me

About Me

I am “The Vision Blogger”. I am a Lifestyle & Motivational Blogger, Writer, and Poet. I spend my days raising my three beautiful children, better known as, “My Three Piece”, and living my life to the absolute fullest. As a blogger, my goal is to push vision. I give my testimony of triumph through grief and loss of hope to ultimately give and offer hope to anyone who may be dealing with issues in life that may stop them from moving forward. 

Website: www.thevisionblogger.com

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His Secret

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I don’t have any real memories of my father prior to age 21. My dad left when I was about 3. My parents divorced and he got his own place. I don’t know what the real reason was for their divorce, I was always told by my mom that he said he didn’t want to be married. I never questioned my mom on it. My mom always said she tried to get him to be a part of my life, but his priorities were being a man about town.

Growing up, I always longed for my dad. I always envisioned him being this rich, hardworking guy. When I would get mad at my mom, I would say, “I can’t wait for my dad to come get me.” I always wanted him, but he clearly didn’t want me. Fast forward to age 20, the year is now 2001. By this time, I am a mom and I longed for him even more to be a part of my life. To be a part of my son’s life. I was at work and my friend encouraged me to look him up. So I got on some website and located a name and number for him. I called the number I had and he answered. I was so nervous.

Growing up, I always longed for my dad.

ME: May I speak with Clarence Ferguson?

HIM: This is him, who is this?

ME: My name is Michele.

HIM: Michele who? Where I know you from? Did we date or something?

ME: *laughing* NO! My name is Michele Ferguson or Stephanie Michele Ferguson

HIM: *silence* then *screams* MY GOD, MY GOD, MY GOD!! THANK YOU LORD! THANK YOU JESUS! I GOT MY DAUGHTER BACK! SHE FOUND ME!

I almost cried. I was happy and kind of confused at the same time because of all of his excitement. We talked for a bit and I told him I would call him when I got home. I told my mom what happened and how he reacted. She didn’t seem too happy about it. But, I was happy I had finally found him.

He moved to Texas about a month later. By now, he was far from the man I had envisioned in my head. He was living on disability for something I’m still not quite sure why. I do know it had to do with an injury. We did not get along at all. I guess now that he was here, the anger that was within took over. He never had a real reason on why he was not there. He stayed for about 5 months, and then moved back to North Carolina because he said I had an attitude all of the time. After he moved back, we talked on the phone a few times. But then I didn’t hear from him for 7 years after that.

I tried to stay in touch with my dad as much as I could. I would go without speaking to him some times for months. He couldn’t call me at this point because he didn’t have long distance on his phone. I basically called when I felt like it. I just didn’t feel the need to keep putting in a major effort. In my eyes, he didn’t so why should I. But at least I called. By then I had learned so many thing about him that really surprised me. He was an ex crack addict and he wasn’t there for his other kids like that either. But at least they knew him and were able to grow up around his family and their grandmother. I’m the one he chose to leave behind. His secret.

On October 1, 2015, he passed away. Only 18 days shy of his 70th birthday. I cried. I screamed. Guilt rushed me like a wave in the ocean. I started feeling like I should have done more. I hadn’t seen my dad’s face since 2001. I had never went to North Carolina to visit him. He asked me to come many times. I flew to North Carolina to attend his funeral. We went to his wake. I saw my dad’s face for the first time in 14 years after our first meeting. He looked like he was sleeping. I finally got to meet his siblings and some of my cousins. I got to meet my sister and brother finally. I was there for about 3 days. I learned that no one except for my siblings and my dad’s two sisters knew anything about me. No one knew my dad was even married to my mom. It’s like he was living a secret life.

I’m the one he chose to leave behind. His secret.

Slowly, the guilt started fading away. Every time, I heard someone say, “Who’s she?” (And that question was asked over 10 times in 3 days) I was over it. I went to my dad’s funeral. I said a prayer in the car and at his casket. I kissed his casket and released all of my guilt at that grave site. It has not been 4 years since he passed. I don’t miss him. I can’t miss something I never had. Here and there I think of what could have been. But I try not to think like that because it just brings anger. The guilt I felt left me the day I left North Carolina. I didn’t choose to be here or this life. It was given to me. He made the choice to not be in my life so I have no reason to feel guilty. I am not the one who should have been putting forth the effort. I just hope and pray he made peace with GOD with his decisions in his life. That’s all I can I can do.

Meet the Author: Stephanie

Follow Stephanie on Social Media: Twitter, Pinterest, Facebook, & Youtube

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IG: Ohsomichele

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Who Knew My Father Had a Personality?

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There was a time in my life, right before I got married, when I stepped outside of my mind to see the world from someone else’s point of view. I was tired. No, I was exhausted, from the energy it took to be constantly angry and resentful of just about everything. I was sick of being hurt by every man with authority over me who seemed to eerily remind me of my father. I worried that I would carry this anger into my marriage or into motherhood with me. It was time to for a new approach.

My parents had been divorced for longer than they had been married by the time I turned 23. I spent most of my life thinking about all of the things I had to miss out on because they split up. I openly blamed them both for the emotional baggage I carried around like a security blanket everywhere I went. As early as 13 years old I developed a razor sharp tongue that would cut them both recklessly. I made sure to rub salt in the fresh wounds that their break up had left behind. Thankfully, after I had barely blown out the candles on my 23rd birthday cake, everything changed. I began to seek Christ and develop a deeper relationship with God than I had ever maintained before. Through this relationship I began to see clearly that I needed to repair the rift between my father before trying to start a family of my own.

In the realm outside of my mind, I began to see life from my father’s eyes. I witnessed a trio of children suddenly appear in my life, tugging at my shoelaces to play as I struggled to climb the corporate ladder at work. I felt my marriage falling apart and my emotions spiraling out of control. I shuddered at the coldness that comes with not knowing how to express your emotions and being misunderstood. My children grew up before my eyes so far away that I could barely see them. I did my best to make up for…everything I knew that I had ruined for them. It seemed like I had an endless debt to pay. Somewhere inside I knew that I would never stop pulling out my wallet, no matter the cost.

I began to seek Christ and develop a deeper relationship with God than I had ever maintained before. Through this relationship I began to see clearly that I needed to repair the rift between my father before trying to start a family of my own.

Stepping outside of my own hurt was the first step to forgiving my father. It not only saved our relationship, it saved me. Forgiving him helped me to release a stream of negative energy that I didn’t even know I was holding on to. Remember, before he was your father…he was a person. Just like you. He wasn’t perfect, he may have messed up, and he may never apologize to you. Jesus knows these same things about us…and guess what? He forgives us and loves us beyond what we could ever imagine just the same. How would you feel if someone you owed a huge debt to told you that it had been taken care of? What would you do if someone you loved who happened to also be someone you hurt gave you the chance to start over with them, to wipe the slate clean? Can you feel your spirit lifting at just the thought of it?

Be that person for your father.

Stepping outside of my own hurt was the first step to forgiving my father.

Meet the Author:

Elle Morrison is a 27 year old Christian blogger, YouTuber, and facilitator of a small group fellowship for women called Great Is Her Faith. She was born and raised in the south, but is now a midwestern wife and mother of two beautiful girls. As a follower of Jesus Christ and a citizen in the Kingdom of God, she tries her best to shine light and sprinkle salt over anyone and anything that crosses her path.

Follow her on Instagram @GreatIsHerFaithSubscribe her blog at: https://greatisherfaith.wordpress.com

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Confession of a Hurt Daughter

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Growing up fatherless, you can be looked at in many negative ways. However, the aftermath had the most impact for me personally. See, being a fatherless girl is not easy and it comes along with the damage and baggage. You lose a part of you, in a sense.  The person who would help find your identity was not there raising you.

Even until this day, I have and am still healing. The effects of being a fatherless child is harsher than being teased as a kid or being a typical stereotype of a black teen. Moreover, the physiological distress is worse. My view points on men, love, self worth and marriage were manipulated at an early age. How? As child, I didn’t know what a marriage was. My father had an affair with my mom and I was a product of it. So automatically, marriage wasn’t something I dreamed about unlike most girls who came from a normal family setting.

My father not being around made me automatically think I was not good enough for him. He would rather raise children that weren’t his. Honestly, it was a slap in my face. What have I done wrong that my presence wasn’t good enough for him to stay? My father being out my life made me search in the wrong places for attention and affection. I didn’t understand what true love was, which is why I got mixed up into the wrong guys during my late years of high school all up until I met my husband.  Of course most people would say, shouldn’t you be worried about college? I didn’t have the support behind me and I was still unsure with myself on what I wanted to do.  So I took time off and during that time off I just focused on my social life; then, I realized how much toxic behavior I was dealing with when it came to dating.

My father not being around made me automatically think I was not good enough for him.

After being a fatherless child for so long, I started to change my views on life and teach myself to do better.

Once I stopped pitying myself, easing my hate with my father, and putting myself first, I realized how much I was hurting myself to fill a void of my father by dealing with toxic behaviors. Once I started treating myself better, something great came along. I got married, and ended up pregnant which was a blessing. I thought my life was getting even better, until I hit a low point in my life where I sought help during my pregnancy. I knew I had some underlying problems that I needed to speak on. I wanted to be a better version of myself for my family. I spoke to my OB and expressed my thoughts and he gave me a referral to a psychiatrist. At first I was on the fence about going. In the black community we tend not to seek help in fear of looking weak. But I knew that I couldn’t get better if I didn’t speak.

My physiatrist at the time helped me understand that my father’s mistakes were not mine to carry, but to learn from. She also stated that I owed it to myself to actually heal and not just shrug it off. She told me to look at myself in the mirror and realize everything I ever wanted to be was there. Ever since my visit with the physiatrist, I started seeing the woman I needed to be was in me once I stopped suppressing it with my pain.

My physiatrist at the time helped me understand that my father’s mistakes were not mine to carry, but to learn from.

Being fatherless child is more than missing the actual father. But the aftermath of it all. Though my father and I reconnected at my wedding, we knew that we had a long way to go. My father has his own demons that he battles with which affects our relationship. When he’s ready to grow,  I’ll be here. Until then, I have to keep going for myself and my family. Unfortunately, this is our reality of being a fatherless child.  If you felt like you were worthless or not good enough, just remember you’re more than enough.

Meet the Author:

My name is AAliyah Choi, I’m 23 years old and I reside in Virginia.  I am inspirational blogger.

Website: www.thatcystergirl.com

Facebook page: That Cyster Girl Blog

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Losing my Dad to Cancer

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My dad was the only person who cared about my well being. Although he wasn’t my biological father, he was the only father…let alone the only parent in my life. My mother was on drugs by the time I was 5, battling an addiction to cocaine and pills. She lost that battle about two months before I left for college when she passed away from an overdose. My dad, however, was there for everything. My kindergarten graduation, every Christmas, any award ceremony, any big accomplishment, he was there. He even took me on my first real vacation to see the beach. That meant so much to me.  

When I was 21, I had gotten engaged and pregnant. I was 8 months pregnant when my ex fiancé at the time left me. Not only was I scared, but I was an emotional mess. I packed up some trash bags and moved back in with my dad. At that point he was the only stable thing I had. After I had my son, we moved into our own apartment and my dad was mentally there for me. We spoke every single day, and he always checked on me and my son. At the time, I truly felt like he was the only person I had. I was okay with that. He’s my dad, my best friend.

A few years later…

One day, my dad called me and told me his doctor said he needed to go to the Emergency Room to get some tests ran. I got the call that night from my cousin that he was diagnosed with Stage 4 Cancer. My heart sank and I couldn’t stop crying. I felt like my whole world had crashed. When he was transferred to another hospital that had a bigger oncology department, I decided to meet him there. It was there that he informed me that if he didn’t make it to my wedding in three months, he would have my uncle walk me down the aisle. I cried so hard. One of the biggest days of my life and he wouldn’t be there.

The day our nurse informed us he had 24 to 48 hours to live, my world was crushed. I knew this time was coming, I just wasn’t as prepared. I honestly don’t think you are ever prepared for something like this. On a Saturday morning he was transferred to a hospice center, my sister, my cousin and I stayed all weekend. He was declining and the nurse told us his transition to passing had began. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy he was about to be out of pain or cry for my own selfish reasons. That Monday when we left for a break, he passed.

Coping with losing my dad

To this day the pain hasn’t gone away. I sometimes find myself carrying many emotions…sad, anger, happy, clueless. He wasn’t there for my wedding day, and he won’t be there for when my next child is born. It breaks my heart, but the only thing that gets me through is knowing he’s watching every move I make. I’ve been to counseling for grief and I’m still going. If you don’t go, it is something I highly recommend. It has helped me sort through my issues and my grieving process.

Life to this day isn’t the same and it never will be. I’m 25 with no parents and I’m scared. The world is a scary place. I go to church now in hopes to make my relationship with God stronger so he can help me through this. When I’m upset I have to remind myself that my dad wouldn’t want me to feel this way, he would want everything to be normal. Please always remember that you are not alone. This is not easy, but always remember what your father would want for you and live your life in honor of him.

Author: Anonymous

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