Father

I compete with three others for my father’s attention. My mother is lovely. She… just… doesn’t have time for nonsense and usually, it is nonsense that gets attention. Sorry, I digress.
My father, at first sight he looks like your average Ghanaian male; five something tall, growing pot belly, graying hair, crow’s feet and a serious look. Oh, he’s very attractive too (a huge improvement according to my mother, over when they first met. I’ve seen pictures, I concur.) He has a job which he claims he’s tired of but which he secretly loves, a wife and children. That’s where the commonalities end.
My daddy is a sucker for beautiful things. There is not a time when he’ll pass by a beautiful building, a boutique, a restaurant and not stare or stop to buy something. He’s a flirt and knows how to get what he wants. He’s kind to a fault and although he knows my siblings and I try to con him out of money he still gives us what we ask for when he can. He laughs more than he frowns, sleeps too early and worries too much about us. It is a wonder to me how it is a wonder to people that my father and I have a relationship where I call him just to say “I love you” and he calls me because he hasn’t heard from me in three days. A relationship where he’s willing to drop everything (and he has) just to go with me to print out posters for elections, one where he’ll grumble and then come pick me up for lunch or get me lunch and drop it off at work for me. One where he’ll contact all the people he knows just to give me an opportunity to get an internship I’m interested in, where he’ll give me what I want but tell me to use trotro so I learn to manage my money, where he’ll see clothes and just because, he’ll buy them for me knowing very well that I’m tough to please and will most probably reject them (yes, I’m too known like that). It’s not all material though.
When I need a hug, he’s there. When I need support he’s there. When I need someone to listen to me and make me feel smart, he’s there. Conversation, check (not all conversations, but still, check). He cooks for us when the feeling takes over. He holds my hand in public, lets me know when I make him proud, allows me to make my own decisions and supports me. He’d rather let my mother do the scolding (his attempts are pathetic). He has weaknesses too. I hate it when he talks about marriage and refuses to acknowledge boyfriends, when he gets picky and grumpy and just doesn’t talk so we don’t even understand why he’s upset, that he cannot does not tell us when he hates what we do and worse of all, when he says “go” and calls every hour (aaaarrrgggh!!!)
But, my father‘s always there for me. By my side, leading me, granting me choice, providing my needs, listening to me when I need to talk, shows that he loves me in both small ways and big. He’s God’s representative here on earth to me.
He’s my champ, my daddy and I love him!

This was written by a lovely friend, Jessica @naa_ahiney . I asked her a Father’s day post. I think its time i shared it, i have had a week where i grew closer to my father. His words to me from way back came to haunt me, and who was there to help and support me? The very person who spoke the words of warning. I love him!

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