To the Man I Know Today as Dad...

My father has always been larger than life to me. Growing up I saw him accomplish many things that I didn't know possible, and he seemingly had no fears. I mean none. He was also the first person to consistently and unconditionally encourage me. When I told him I wanted to be the first Black woman president of the United States and principal ballerina, he said "I believe you can do it... we just have to get you to actually go out on stage... (a story for another time)" My Dad has always been honest with me and taught me that even when the truth is painful, it can be so much better than the burden of a lie. He taught me the value of saving, and investing at an early age, and allowed me to see firsthand the benefits of following his advice.

As the years have passed, our relationship has shifted along with them. The conversations we can have, while still frank, carry much more significance due to my maturity. I ask less about whether I can have the next Usher CD or a car for school, and more about what I should be looking for in a good partner, or the best stocks to invest in. I began to see my Dad's ability to adult well as something I needed to tap especially as I look to better adult myself. He doesn't spontaneously talk a lot, and if you ask him the right questions he could talk for hours.

About seven years ago, my Dad received news that he had a mass on his lungs, and would need to undergo chemotherapy and radiation treatment for Stage 3A lung cancer. I remember the day he shared it with me so matter of factly, I almost felt like I had no choice but to present strong and talk about it that way too. Because 1,000 miles away, in what appeared to be another life, my Dad would be driving himself to treatment, taking care of himself, and wearing a smile through it all. I remember begging him to download Skype so that I could see him when we talked, and look at him when he said "I'm making it, baby." We talk every day, for five minutes sometimes more, and during that time it was like gold to me, I cherished every second. He kicked cancer's butt and received the report that there was a sizeable reduction in the tumor and that he was cancer-free and could stop treatment. We all celebrated and were grateful to have been able to support him through the process in various ways.

Then it seemed like everything shifted. That time, the process, the treatment, the toll on his person and personhood. It changed him. The person that I knew him to be, slowly begin to fade, and I was introduced to someone I'd never met who looked and sounded so much like my father it was disorienting. He began to worry. He was less able to care for himself, and it was harder for me to get others to help him. He was now afraid of many things, including death, and I thought this can't be MY Dad we're talking about. In a last-ditch effort to save the parts of my Dad that would peek through every now and then, I decided to shorten the distance between us and move him from Louisiana to Pennsylvania with me. That way, I could help to ensure he has what he needs to live the way that he has chosen to at this point in his life. While we don't always agree on his choices, and I don't believe the Dad I knew before would agree, we respect them - cause that's all we can do at this big age.

I had a similar thought today that I did on Mother's Day, that it can be hard to lean into the day when your relationship with your parent is different than how it started, or wasn't really there to begin with. It can be hard that there doesn't seem to be space for it, and that those without shared experience could never truly understand. I think I wanted to try and give space for and a voice to my own feelings of grief around a relationship that has changed, with a person who is very much still living, in hopes that it helps someone else feel that their experience, feelings, and struggle are valid. I love my Dad very much, and as our Father's Day celebration has shifted from dinner and gifted polo shirts to caretaking and sitting together for a few hours, I honor him - past, present, and future him. To the man, I know today as Dad, Happy Father's Day.