My Dad

My Dad was a pretty hard man I guess, well that's what I remember of him, I know more of him through stories I've been told, very few memories do I have left of my own. I know he wasn't a man to be messed with, little patients did he have, I'm pretty sure he loved me the best he could, with the tools that he had. My Dad was a gang Member, for the Black Power, I guess it became the family he wished he had, why he choose to live that way. My Dad didn't drink that much, H'is thing was getting high, always blowing someone out, to the point of nearly losing there minds. He spent a lot of time in jail, I remember bits and pieces of visits, what I didn't know then I sure do now, I was how things got smuggled in. Even though my Dad was a woman basher, and intimidated people with fear, I think his younger life must have been really harsh, so bad he didn't know how to care. Quite often when I was young, we didn't have much food, Dad would take all the money, spend on things he use to do. but we got by with what we had, sort of glad I don't remember any of that. It sort of saddens me to talk of my Dad, the way that I do, but the reality of it all is, this is what he use to do. The last time I saw my Dad was my 12th birthday, he came for a surprise visit, it really made my day, I really didn't know much about my Dad, Or what his life was about, that's what upset the most when he died , he was my only way out. M.Mahauariki © 2012