"Some days I don't wanna be bothered. Some days I just miss my father." - Joe Budden "Ten Minutes"
I woke up with my Dad on my mind. I feel like Joe Budden today. I really miss my Father. He's been gone almost 13 years. It still hurts. He was killed in the New Orleans neighborhood he grew up in. He was the victim of a robbery gone bad. I'm still upset that his murder is a cold case. No arrest, trial and no conviction. My family has no closure. He's just gone. And, that makes this whole situation much sadder to me and my family. I, no we, needed him. And, we didn't even get to say goodbye.
I hate that he was taken from me right when we were re-establishing a relationship. I hate that I will never hear him calling me "Yo! Kenda Raps" or singing to me on my birthday. The fact that he will never walk me down the aisle or meet my future kids bothers me. I want to believe that being a grandfather would have agreed with him. That it would have made him mature. I think he would've gotten a kick out of being called Papaw. He missed out on graduations, birthdays, births, weddings, and just random family gatherings. His presence is clearly and noticeably missing from the family.
I miss the most simple things about him. His laughter was always deep and rich, as if he felt it deep in his soul. He was a natural comedian. He was well liked and well received every where he went. Everyone knew and loved him. He was just that kind of guy. He was a poet and loved music. I get that from him. Hell, I even miss arguing with him. We did that a lot. We bumped heads because we were both stubborn and headstrong. We were two sides of the same coin. Or as my Mom always said "I was his two bit change." I never expected to lose him so young. I was only 18 and in my second year in college. I remember that day so clearly. The phone call that changed my entire life. I was never the same after that. How could I be? None of us were prepared for something so tragic to befall our family. We never thought that it would happen to us. But we were so wrong.
I'm in no way attempting to martyr my Dad. He wasn't perfect. He was gone more than he was in me or my siblings lives. He was more out than in. Truth be told, my Mom played the role of both parents then and still does. But, every child needs their Father. In some ways, we missed out. I'm grateful for my uncles and Godfather though. I had great male influences in my life to pick up the Father slack. I can say I grew up very well rounded.
But, he was my Dad. I hate that I can't pick up the phone to call him, yell at him, anything. He was ours and some punk took him from us. My siblings missed out on so much with him. My baby sister was only 2 when he died. It still makes me so angry. That she will never have what we all had with him. I feel like my siblings more than I were robbed of knowing him, growing with him. they were all so young when he was killed. They missed out on so much of him. And, they didn't deserve that.
I try to hold onto my memories of him. Honestly, its getting harder to remember the simplest things. I hate that my memories are slowly slipping away. And, there seems to be nothing that I can do to hang on to them, to him. That makes me so sad. I try not to succumb to this intense emotion. It's easier some days. I'm fighting it today. I just miss him so much, some days more than others. I just hope wherever he is that he's proud of me and knows that I love him.
RIP Kenneth Jerome Hawkins Sr.