Chapter 6: Freedom of Forgiveness

The first memory of my father was not picture perfect but the image and sound is still present over 30 years later. Imagine an impressionable young man like any other son who thinks his father is a superhero, police officer, or the boss. Unfortunately for me, my father was MIA by his own mission in life. This absence certainly was not a military leave of absence but was a personal leave of inaction in my life.

I remember my mom telling me, “Son, there is your father.” I was so excited because this to my best recollection was my first interaction with my father, at least that I was aware of. I was overjoyed because this was my dad. Little did I know, that even though I carried his last name, I represented a living art exhibit of an ordained pastor’s mistake. Despite my excitement and anticipation of this meeting with destiny, the words he said to me were, “Hey, boy!” Not, “Hello son.” No, “I love you” or “I missed you.” No hug like the great movie scenes I had watched of a loving father and a son. What a let down! The family portrait in my eyes was shattered into a million pieces with fragments etched into my memory bank.