I was browsing my brother's Facebook page and saw a post about our late father. He posted it on Dad's birthday on November 25th. He would be 60 years old.
I felt tears welling up inside, I know that I miss him. Often when I look at Rayi, I get reminded of him. There is something about Rayi that reminds me of him. Maybe it's the mouth. Maybe it's the thick eyebrows. Maybe it's just Rayi's fierce stare that reminded me of his strongwilled grandpa.
My daddy died when Rayi was 2 months in the womb. A few days before his death, he told me that the baby would be a boy, and that he wanted to chip in when we name him. He was right on the former, although at that time I insisted I was having a girl. So I guess I always feel that there's a piece of him that is left in Rayi.. because when he's gone, Rayi was born.
We had our differences, he wasn't always the greatest father and I wasn't always the greatest daughter. But there is no doubt about it, he is my daddy. He was my daddy when I was little, he was my daddy who wedded me and gave me away to my husband.
Rest well, Daddy.