Fatherless Child

My father was absent for most of my childhood. He would be in and out of prison from state to state. The memories I have of the times he did show up impacted me negatively. I wanted to know my father; to have a relationship with him, it just never worked out that way. People who knew my father always spoke highly of him. I wished I knew the man they were so fond of. My experience with him was different. I remember a care package received from him once at my grandmother’s house for my brother and I. He sent it to us from prison. Sadly, it was the most he ever did for us. I have always wondered if he treated us that way because of his relationship with my mother.

I had two men in my life who sexually assaulted me as a child. My father was one of them. I have never discussed this or the impact it had on me for fear of what people might say. I chose to black it out, but I hated him. I just never wanted to be around him alone. Although on rare occasion, I could remember anytime he was in the same room as me, I would be overwhelmed with fear. It was awful. How could you do that to your child? I never told my grandmother as I knew it would kill her and she would have definitely killed him. I was completely confused. So, instead of telling, I held it all in.

My father showed up attempting to gain custody of me while my brother was dying, and we were in my foster mother’s home. I hadn’t seen him for years. He showed up as if he had been there all along; as if he had a right to be. I knew he thought I didn’t remember what he did to me. He showed up to my classroom unannounced and I remember being so afraid and wishing that he would just go away. I never got out of my seat. I walked up to my teacher after he left and asked that he never be allowed back in to the building. I didn’t want a relationship with him: I wished he’d never resurfaced as I had already blocked him out of my brain. I was 9 years old and I was completely overwhelmed.

My foster mother allowed him to come to the house to talk to me. I told him that I saw him beat my mother; that I didn’t trust him and that I was afraid of him. I told him that I didn’t want to live with him and I would rather stay in foster care than be alone with him. I truly wanted him to go away. He left that day. The last I heard from him was a phone call to my foster mother’s home where he told me if I didn’t want to talk to him anymore that he would grant my wish; he did. I never saw or heard from him again. It was just that easy for him to walk away from me.

Fathers are supposed to love their daughters; show them what love and respect for a woman is supposed to look like. I just never experienced that from mine. There was no outwardly showing of anything remotely close to love. Truth is, I learned to push through life without it. I’m certain that in his life, he was dealing with a lot that I had no knowledge of. But, I never asked to be here. Why would he choose to hurt me? Why didn’t I deserve a father who loved and cared about me?

When I was 15 years old, I found out that my father died in prison. I had no emotions regarding his death. Secretly, I felt like that was one less thing I needed to worry about. I don’t know much about his life or why he made the decisions he did. I just wished I wasn’t caught in the crossfire. I never forgave him. I held on to all the hurt that he caused me. No one ever knew what I experienced and it has been weighing me down for my entire life. Today, I have to let it go. I have to move on with my life and forgive him for his part in my pain.

I forgive you Jackie Kimbrough. I am moving on with my life and trusting God to heal my heart as it pertains to my father. #releasebyfaith

Ephesians 4:31-32

Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and, evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice.

And be kind to one another, tender hearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.