Image: Indigenous Bushman/San family embracing (10 years old, 14 years old, 43 years old), Namibia by Martin Harvey
After almost a week since Daddy's passing, I cried for the fist time last night. For a man I knew for only a fraction of my life I'm surprisingly shattered. In fact I'm beside myself with grief. When I think to myself, most of our conversations consisted of heated debates and intense discussions but that was what we had in common apart from his signature vampire shaped teeth that all his children inherited. Dad and I shared a common trait of being tirelessly outspoken and never shy, as opposed to my mother’s gentle soft-spoken nature.
One night, many years ago I was in my dad's car while he was driving me home, he pointed to lights in a distance that were moving in a circular motion and he said, "Do you know what that is? It's a merry-go-round." I just remember thinking to my little self. Yeses!!! I've made it. I had a person I called Dad, now he was driving me home and he was also showing me all sorts of wonderful things on the way. It dawned on me at that very defining moment that I was in fact, the coolest kid that I knew alive.