Flashback to the days when I was a complete terror. I used to plan my attack the night before. The only thing that was standing between me and stardom was dad’s refusal to show me how to play piano.
I learned celebrity-ism from him. The smiles he’d get when he walked in church. Great keyboard players would get up and offer my dad a seat in the middle of a song on the piano. Dad was always modest, he told them to sit and play. Sometimes they would stop the service just to usher him to the front and he’d kill it like he did back in the day. He’d kill the organ. He was good at that too. The only thing he wasn’t good at was helping me learn piano. I’m 31 now I’ve gotten lessons and everything. I play well now but I still struggle with church music.
Church music isn’t written down. I was classically trained. I read notes. I’m like drum-line in reverse with a good dad at home and anger strong enough to burn our house down. My hatred comes and goes. He’s sick now. I can’t pick fights with him. I can however, write my heart out and not feel bad about how I really feel. He’s the reason I hate church. I don’t even wanna step in that thing. I play piano, guitar and trumpet now but I only play the guitar and trumpet at church.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive him. Not even when my name’s in lights. I’ve been angry since I was sixteen years old. I’m still learning how to manage it. I HATE MY FATHER!!!! Not really. Feels great!!! I only hate him for that one thing. The one thing he could’ve given me would’ve cost him nothing. I just wanted to be like him. The thing I admire him most for doing what grandpa said:
“Look here buddy, you better keep this fam together”.
They’ve had some tough days but somehow managed to work it out. Mom takes care of him now, my siblings rearranged work schedules to help out. He’s well taken care of by me too, most days.
Things get a little better in the next segment but it’s hard not to revert back to my ways.
I decided to rebuild my relationship with dad so I’m starting from scratch and I’ve really lucked out because dad’s a good player. He fell into my traps when I was a teen and found himself cornered into an argument every Sunday over breakfast and I’d vent until mom interfered.
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