Purge. A 5-letter, one syllable word which I thought of as my world fell apart around me. I was completely numb. So numb that I could no longer feel the tears run down my cheeks when I reflected on losing my Daddy. I, simply, closed my eyes and they fell. This must be grief.
I have never wanted to die in my life. But the days..then weeks passing made death a welcomed sight over the overwhelming sadness which rocked me. The fire which my father breathed in me at birth was fading quickly and I wasn’t resistant to the flame dimming forever. I’m positive that this is how it feels to have God snatch your soul from your body. Limp. Empty. Cold.
If not for receiving that text message from my prima, I would have withered away.
Inhale. Exhale. Close My Eyes. Purge.
So many women asked if that moment where I referenced my Daddy speaking to me and then me smelling him in my car was real. It was not poetic license. That instance was as real as me writing this piece now. My Daddy resuscitated me. His spirit filled me. I was taller, stronger with a louder voice. I screamed. It was the same scream I heard the night my sister told me my Mufasa left this earth. It was the scream of my ancestors fortifying me right along with the spirit of my father.
From that moment forward, I had all the strength I needed. I had the strength to see my husband and smile knowing I was fully aware of his affair. Purposefully, I plotted out my response to his infidelity. I gave him the opportunity to tell the me the truth. Real talk- we could’ve ended our union with a kiss and a handshake. 17 years of history should have warranted that, no? 40-something Keka had become a contrastive metamorphosis of 20/30-something Keka. I loved Albert but it wasn’t the same. He was still the same person. I mean THE EXACT SAME PERSON I met at 26. I get it. Some people aren’t meant to do anything more than just exist. Things that seemed like common sense to me were still foreign to him. And I, no longer, guarded my words when I spoke to him. You know the way you are supposed to when you want to protect the person whom you love. I didn’t show him grace. Hell, I’m not even saying he deserved it. I didn’t have any to offer him.
We have always been different. Different backgrounds. Different priorities. Different outlooks on life. Different.
Somehow, we managed to make it work for a while anyway. And then, WE stopped working. In a purge letter, there’s no way that I could give a full historical account of our love affair. I can recall moments where I felt electrified from his love. Love was in our smiles, our eyes and in our body language. We were even teased about looking like brother and sister. There was a closeness that could be felt even by strangers.
Those moments came and went.
Relationships/ marriages end everyday, B. When my Daddy died, it gave me an entirely distinct outlook on him. Losing my father magnified my ex’s inadequacies. I , ALWAYS, had my Daddy to lean on for the extra shit like life lessons, business ideas, my fears and goals. With him not being physically here, who was going to be my shield? Certainly NOT Albert. He couldn’t even get certain women in his family to stay in their fucking lanes so I know he didn’t have this covered. He, always, made mention of his “family” and it drove me nuts because there was no ACTUAL BLOOD RELATION. So I was always at a loss for this misplaced loyalty for “regular ass muthafuckas” especially when they gave no fucks about hurting him to get to me.
Needless to say, my husband’s weakness also took a toll on our marriage. I know that I am all over the place. I started this last night ( the second month anniversary of my dad’s death). I just need to get it out. We will make sense of it later.
Back to this letter though. At the moment my Dad died, any tension, hurt or misunderstandings should have ceased to exist. Albert should have been there ready to rock with Yemi and me. He was overtly absent. That bothered me more than anything. He knew the pain I felt. His mother died in 2005 and I was there. According to him, he loved my Dad like a father and given that his father was never present in his life…the very least he should have done was be present. Even his “love” for my Daddy couldn’t make him be honest though. Yeah, that makes him even shittier and I’m pissy all over again.
Upon the recognition of Al’s blatant disrespect for us when we asked him about this “girlfriend”, I had made up in my mind that I was going to write about it. Not for people’s entertainment. Not to be petty. Hell, I blog about my life, feelings and thoughts. This wasn’t any different. And had he told the truth, there would be no letter of which to speak.
So I began crafting the letter and the more my father’s spirit filled me, the more brazen the letter became. It was meant to annihilate him. It was a gut punch, a stab and a slap all in one. He didn’t wait to cheat when I was ok. He took my lowest moment and tried to end me emotionally. Somehow, I should have taken that “L”. Nobody expected me to talk about it. From some responses, many would rather have me suffer and lose it in silence. I yelled to keep from losing it. From losing myself. I am not the scores of women who will fight and cry for lost loves even when those “loves” no longer love them back. It was important as a black woman and mother to STAND AND YELL. SO I FUCKING DID.
If he needed a way out, all that was needed was a conversation. He doesn’t get to do this openly and think that I will retreat. I am Moe’s daughter. I will take you head on and I will not stop until there’s nothing left but dust. This wasn’t about love. There was no love in anything that he did. This was purely about accountability. Public or private. No shame. I’ve loved and lost. I, NEVER, imagined losing my Daddy so soon and he took away from me honoring my Mufasa. I was not here to offer forgiveness or understanding. I came to wreak havoc. Period. We’ve even discussed it. Yes, he and I discussed it. Al said it was brilliant and that every word was true. Except the part about my Daddy not liking him… he took that shit hard. As in tears. *shrugs* That’s not my burden to bear though.
I am not easily shamed. I’ve been a thief, a liar and an infidel according to the Saints. I’ve also accepted all of those things to become a better person. A better woman. A better mother. It’s a trait people love or hate about me. I am not afraid of many things and I’m facing the biggest of those fears right now. I have lost a parent and a stepparent. Writing that letter has helped me begin the grieving process. I have finally been able to cry without becoming numb. My Daddy sends me signals to let me know that he has never left my side. I smell him in my kitchen A LOT. And yesterday, as I wept not realizing that this is my 2nd month without him- I smelled him again.
I can’t say that I wouldn’t do it again if I had the chance to change this. This isn’t everybody’s way but it was, surely, cathartic. And sometimes a full disclosure purge is needed.
Purge. A 5-letter, one syllable word which I thought of as my world fell apart around me will now be the reason why I am able to stand again.
Thank you for helping me get through this.