My father barely gives himself credit for my upbringing, which always frustrated me. He gave my mother and grandmothers all the praise they deserved, but he always made himself seem like a footnote, and it took me some time to understand why.
When my mom was six months pregnant, my father was incarcerated and wasn’t released until I was two years old. As a result, he missed my birth, my first words, and my first steps. After serving his sentence, he finally got to hold me and felt the weight of being a dad and the pressure of making up for lost time. His idea of fatherhood was being a provider. Unfortunately, hard as he tried, his efforts were undermined by discrimination against people with felonies. They didn’t leave him with many options, so my mother and grandmothers had to fulfill that role in ways he couldn’t. A regret he carries with him to this day.
Although he couldn’t fulfill his envisioned role, I’ve benefitted from his life lessons and encouragement that kept me from walking down the same path he did. My father was also one of the first people to nurture my creativity. For example, I loved cars as a kid, so I would ask him to draw me one whenever we spent time together. And even though he wasn't that good, and the cars would look janky, I saw the pride and joy in him doing it because he knew it would make me happy, and subtly, those moments inspired me to want to make things for a living.
Now that I’m a full-time artist, I wanted to show my appreciation, give my father his flowers and say, thank you. I know he feels like he could’ve done more, but what he was able to do meant the world to me.
Art by yours truly.
Music by Lafayette Stokely.
Created on Cinema 4D & Premiere Pro.
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