My Dear Africana Woman,
My father died some years ago on this day (13 May). Truth is I don't remember what year he died or the day he died. I am always reminded by the pictures my siblings post. See papa was a rolling stone. He had 7 kids by 5 women. I guess he raised 3. Most of us met as adults. Leading up to his passing, he was terribly sick. The second eldest called us all to say, come see him. No one took it seriously, but I read through the lines that these were his last days. So we rallied and decided to travel together to the town he lived in. My sister flew in from Botswana, and we started off as soon as she landed. It was a 6 hour drive give or take. Stuffed in a car like sardines with family, but we were really strangers, there was an awkward silence. Two hours in, a little chatter had began, and the tension was easing up. Phones rang, some memories were conjured. My younger brother got our attention, he said, "Remember the call I received a few minutes ago? Dad has died" Pin drop silence for a split second, then the wails raised up...
May you never be too late; too late to reconcile, too late to say I am sorry, too late to say I love you. Too late to pursue your purpose. Seize the moment now.
This is the only picture I know, of my father and I. I saw this picture for the first time a month ago.
I am telling you I try to be orderly and civilised for you all. I have my posts nicely planned out. But God just keeps kicking my ideas out the window. So here we are. Let's do this. My first thought is about all the high heels out there, hitting the pavement having no resolution to the neglect and abandonment from their fathers. There are different forms of neglect. I think of a father with more than one family in the same town. I think of a man with so many children and he tries to do right by them by housing them all under one roof, but his wife, in her youth, only has the capacity to love her own. I think of the man who is happy to leave his child with his mother as he continues to sow his wild oats, and just because he puts food on the table, believes he is a father. Help me somebody. It ain't ENOUGH! Do you know there are so many women that will never ever say the word Daddy in their lifetime?
A few months ago, the words finally came out of my mouth, "I want a Daddy. I want a father." Sweety I am 35 years old but that little 8 year old inside of me needed to finally say the words out loud and have a good old cry. I can only but pray for the older generations and our youth. But my true hope is in the babies. We are raising the future. We have the power to raise men who are connected to the source. Men who fear God and follow His commandments. God only has two commandments; Love God with all your heart, mind and soul and Love your neighbor as yourself. In the out pouring of Love, so much trauma and hurting would not exist. The problem we have today is that Yes, we love our neighbour as we love ourselves. Thing is we DON'T love ourselves. How we love is a direct reflection of what is inside us.
So as we step into this world as leaders in our homes, families and careers, may I present to you that the first person you must lead is yourself. Mhm that requires spending time with you and only you honey. We all have traumas that created either negative mindsets, limiting beliefs or a scarcity mentality. All of which went to sit deep in our subconscious acting like a silent puppet master. Break the cycle babe. Get help. Date yourself. Find out what makes you tick. Be clear on your identity. Because once you know, without a doubt, who you are, and whose you are; when you walk into your purpose, the atmosphere shifts into alignment with you. Lead yourself first, impact the world and make a difference.
I could go on and on but I won't. Let me know what you think in the comments. Share it with someone and bless them. Please subscribe so as you do not miss any of my love letters that come out every Thursday. My desire is that you KNOW your roots to grow your purpose. I love you sis. Have a great week.
Peace and Blessings