My Father’s Daughter

Me & JA
Side by side photos of my father and I.
This is a newspaper clipping from his days as a Private Investigator, and it’s the only photo I have of him. Years ago, I managed to get a photocopy, which was little more than a dark silhouette, but it meant the world to me. Then last week, I was able to get this much clearer copy (Thank U Nile!)
I can’t even find adequate words to express how it felt when I opened this photo without realizing what I was going to see. I was still half asleep when I opened the file, and suddenly there’s this image of my father-whom I spent every day of the first 3 years of my life with; the man that I used to believe was the real Santa (it must have been the beard), and in a way, seeing this photo felt like I was looking in the mirror for the first time in a very long time-as you can see from the resemblance.
Its amazing how someone who is such a part of you can suddenly disappear from your life unexpectedly and yet continue to be such a big part of who you are and who you grow to become. I originally was going to caption this photo simply as “This is my father-he’s responsible for 50% of who I am”, but I’m pretty sure my mother would agree that its more like 75%, at least; I inherited my mother’s backbone and bite (which has saved me countless times), but I’m certain that the rest of me: from my flair for what some people teasingly refer to as ‘Pimp Daddy’ clothing and impossibly shiny shoes to my love of ‘all things jazz’, and these days, my increasingly growing interest in politics.
And the surreptitious smile and wicked nature, that’s his as well ❤


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