Happy Birthday Daddy !!

Today my Dad turned 61 years old. Wow, I really never thought he'd make it this far. I know that must sound like a pretty morbid thing to say about my father, but if you knew the kind of life he'd led up to now, you'd wonder the same thing. He's a disabled veteran now with prostate cancer. He's doing well now and going through his treatments. He fought in Vietnam twice before I was born. He was born and raised in the deep south in 1947. Could you imagine for a minute was life was like in the 40s and 50s for a young Black man? Pretty treacherous. I remember listening to the stories he would tell me about growing up in Mobile, Alabama. How he would spend his free time running because it made him feel so free. He knew he wasn't like the kids around him. He knew he was different from his 5 brothers and sisters. For one thing, he never developed the accent of a deep southerner. He sounded like he was from California and he still does to this day. His ambitions were light years away from his peers. He knew there was so much more to life and the world than what was going on in tiny little Mobile. When he graduated from high school, he packed up and joined the Navy. While he was on his first tour in Vietnam, a friend of his introduced him to his cousin through a letter. They exchanged pictures and letters for over 2 years before they met in person. On May 17, 1969 they met face to face for the first time and married on May 19, 1969, two days later. Then my dad had to go back, but not without leaving his impression first. His new wife was pregnant! When he returned 6 months later, she was showing quite a bit. A couple of months later, she arrived at the hospital to give birth to her first child. God did not see fit to give that child, named Brenda Joyce, to her mother so he took her for himself and this left my father and his new wife distraught. It was only time and the grace of God that allowed them to see past their hurt and try again. Soon they discovered they were pregnant again and this time, God let them keep what they prayed so long for and here I am!!! My dad and mom had me in October 1971. My parents told me after I was born that my complexion was the color of a new penny. My mother is very light skinned and my father is dark skinned. And I have big eyes just like his. From the start I was Daddy's girl. My parents never had anymore children after me. My dad took me everywhere he went. I think I learned my street smarts with him and all our adventures. My mom was always big into school. Do your homework, do well on tests. I get my school ethic from her. I get my will from both of them. My dad has had it pretty hard since returning from Vietnam. That was back in the day when soldiers and sailors came back to getting spit on and trash throw at them. My dad was just a kid when he fought over there and he came back a changed person. Today, we now know his condition is called PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), but all we knew was that he was always angry. He was rarely happy. He would have extreme mood swings and then sometimes, he would sleep for days. My parent's marriage was a strenuous one for both of them and it ended 16 years after it started. They even tried again about 9 years after they divorced the first time, they remarried but it only lasted 5 years. Sometimes things are just better left alone ya know? My mom wasn't the only one to have issues with my dad. He and I have had our issues too. He wasn't always there for me when I was growing up. There were times when he showed up or manned up just when I needed him to, but most often it was just me and my mom. When I became an adult he tried to play the "daddy" roll and I took offense to it. Why try to play daddy to an adult when you should have done that when I was a kid was my line of thinking. He was try to press his rules and regs on me and I'd be like "whatever". He hadn't lived with us for years and there was no way I was going to let him control my life (or so I thought). Fat was he was still my father and I owed him at least that much respect. The older I got, the more I understood, and now being married to a Veteran with PTSD, I understand some of what he was going through when he was younger. Too bad I couldn't help my mom understand about PTSD and how it effects everyone close to the sufferer. But here I sit today, already having called my dad and sang him happy birthday, amazed at the life he's lived and what he's gone through to come out the man he is today. I'm so proud of him and I'm so lucky that he's my father. I love you Daddy! Happy Birthday!