Bumpsy

Bumpsy, that is his name.  Who is that?  The man who showed me everything in life that I shouldn’t be, yet I wanted to become.  The man who hurt me over and over again.  The man who my sisters called Bumpsy.  Bumpsy is/was my father.  

In the Winter of 2021, I forgave my dad and accepted his role in my life.  He is the man who my sister and all his friends (none to date I trust) call Bumpsy.  I could never call him that.  I called him dad because that is who I wanted him too always be.  It was not to the age of 41 that I realized what a father was.  That is when I began a relationship with my first-born son.  His presence forced me to be a father figure.  It was not hard, I just told him the truth, good, bad and or neutral. At the age of 49 I am finally confident enough to be a good father.  I am also smart enough not to try to make up for my prior shortcomings as a father in the past.  I am here for my children now.  I don’t baby them and I do not tell them what they want to hear.  This often causes hurt feelings.  The truth hurts and I believe in time the truth will allow you to grow.  Right now, let’s talk about Bumpsy.

My father is/was a drug addict and alcoholic.  I was in my early 30’s before I saw my father sober for the first time.  I waited for over a decade for him to be a dad.  You know, give me some advice, guide me, lecture me.  One time I told him I was breaking up with a girl I really like because she was in recovery and I was not ready nor did I want to stop having alcohol if I wanted to.  His response was “they’re all crazy anyway”.  That was a lot of help. I talk alot about him in my book so if you read it you would get a better understanding of the role he played in my life.  To put it short, if he was not high, he saved his drug money and would help his kids out if they needed it.  He bought my windows in my first home.  He bought my first car.  The total investment was 6,000 dollars.  I ended up giving him the car back when I got another one.  If you talk to him, he was always there for me.  He was not the father a young man needs in his life.  He is not a person I would recommend to someone as a trustworthy friend.  I struggle to this day with trust (trusting myself included) due to the way my father influenced me.  

I always hoped that one day he would change.  Why do we expect so much from people?  I have learned to accept him.  I forgave him and gave him an opportunity to tell me why he was the way he was.  I really wanted the Pooky from New Jack City “ it keeps calling my name” explanation.  What I got was he had a good life and he just wanted to have fun and have a good time.  This explanation came after I surprised him one day by taking a flight to his home (Poppy’s house, his father) from Connecticut to North Carolina and knocked on the door and when he answered I asked him to talk to me.  He told me he was busy.  We exchanged a few pleasant words and I threw a bible in the house.  I found out later that he thought I was someone from the church.  He called me later and I let all my feelings out and he just deflected them.  It hurt like hell and when I hung up the phone, I knew that I was free. 

Up to that point I held on to the pain.  Although I had accomplished more with my life than anyone including myself I had always been afraid to give my all to anything.  So essentially everything accomplished was a calculated risk.  I was comfortable just being an average person, with a less than average dad and a good friend to good people. I was and am so far away from my limits, my glass is empty.  My father was my excuse.  My dad was my BS excuse that allowed me to be a bad father.  I was a better father than him and that was good enough for me for most of my life.  As I have evolved there is so much more I want to be.  Which for me, means the best at everything I do.  The best for me is me doing the best I can do.  Not perfect, consistent. 

When I forgave my father, I meant accepted him for who he is. My inner passion busted out of me like a dam that has endured it first down poor of heavy rain and busted open.  I was 47 years old and I was finally ready to live, love, laugh and levitate my current situation beyond the boundaries that I created.  I had daddy issues.  Now like my sister, I call my father Bumpsy. I really call him dad; I just do not call him.

Thanks for reading

Your Friend Wakime