Five Days of Daddy (Day3)

When I got married almost two years ago I went through a lot of my daddy’s pictures to make a slide show for the Father/Daughter Dance.
I found lots of pics I’d forgotten all about and of course the memories came flooding back.
In the late 80s early 90s daddy had this smurf blue Toyota that he would drive to Alabama and pick me up in. My favorite times were in the summers when I got to stay a extended time. My daddy worked in retail during that time and I would go to work with him.
He worked in a clothing store at Avondale Mall, everyone knew him in the mall and I’d go from store to store visiting the managers.
One day I was at work with my dad and I guess I was bored, I picked up the phone when daddy wasn’t paying attention and dialed 9-1-1. As soon as someone on the other end answered, I’d hang up. I did this about three times, until finally an officer showed up.
I was sitting behind the counter and it was still early in the day so there weren’t any customers in the store. The police asked for the manager and daddy identified himself.
By now I’m scared, but still sitting quiet.
The officer told daddy they received several calls from this store and asked if everything was okay. Daddy looked at me and asked “Shaka did you call the police?”
I told him yes, he asked why and I told him because I was bored. (LMAO)
I was about 9-years-old and always bored. The officer laughed and told me not to do it again. Daddy popped my hand and told me not to do it again and that was the end of that. Later on my daddy said next time I do something like that he was going to let them take me to jail since I was so bored then he gave me this long lecture about playing on the phone with the police. Needless to say I never dialed 9-1-1 again unless it was an emergency.

Daddy and me heading to work in the smurf blue Toyota

Five Days of Daddy (Day 2)

There are lots of things my daddy did for me that as I look back on I realize he didn’t have to do.
One that sticks out in particular is the night of my office Christmas party back in 2004.
I was interning at Crossroads News in south DeKalb County, but living downtown in student housing near Clark Atlanta University.
My car was in the shop for something, radiator I think.
It was the night of my party and I was kicking it with a guy who was my escort for the night.
His name was Shawn, he was about six years older than my age of 24.
Anyway Shawn called me an hour before pick up time with some excuse about why he couldn’t go. I don’t remember if it was his kid, on again off again girlfriend or flat tire. I was pissed, here I am almost dressed and my date is a no-show.
My roommate Olicia and I began calling other people, but to no avail, so Olicia got dressed and said we’d take the train. Me? I only took the train when it was necessary, not to mention we would have to take trains and a few buses to get from downtown to the other side of town. It was also very cold and I also don’t do cold weather unless its absolutely necessary.
Soooooooo with options and time running low, I called my dad. I just knew he would say no because he hated for me to call him last minute. He shocked me by saying yes he would take me to my Christmas party. I told him that the dude I was supposed to go with couldn’t go now so my roommate was coming with me. He simply said “Un huh, I’m on my way.”
An hour or so later my dad showed up and to my surprise he was dressed in a navy blue suit. I thought maybe he had somewhere else to go, so I’m like “Dad where you going?”
He said, “I’m going to the party with yall.”
Olicia started cracking up, she was like “That’s what’s up Mr. Phillips, let’s go.”
I didn’t think much of it then, but as I look back at the one picture we took I realize how sweet that was of my dad. It is by far one of my fondest memories of him. He not only drove from Stone Mountain to downtown Atlanta to Lithonia for the party, but he also let me keep his car for the rest of the weekend. That’s the kind of daddy I had, I could always call on him. Thinking back, that was the best date I’d ever had. I told him thank you, but it was more so, thanks for the ride. Dear Daddy in Heaven, thanks for being my date that night.

Daddy and Me at Crossroads Christmas party!

Seven Days of Daddy(Day 1)

It’s always amazed me how much about my time in Detroit I remember. When I was born daddy had already moved from Columbus Ga up north, I’m guessing to make a better life for us. I’m told that mama and I moved there when I was three months old. My father-in-law teases me all the time because I don’t really have a southern accent, I’m a picky eater and I hate sweet tea. I explain to him the first five years of my life were up north.
I’m pretty sure I said pop instead of soda until one of my cousins forced me to say drank when mama and I moved back to Alabama where she’s from.
Anyway there were lots of good times and bad ones in Michigan. Obviously one of the best was my fourth birthday party in 1983. Before I even saw the accompanying picture I had clear memories of having a Strawberry Shortcake cake, I remember because I didn’t like that her shoes were outlined in black icing. To this day I’m very particular about my birthday cakes. I’ve gotten several free cakes because a decorator didn’t follow my instructions.
I remember Mickey Mouse birthday hats and napkins. I remember chips, red punch, ice cream, my little boyfriend/neighbor Munchin and my daddy capturing every moment with a camera. So if you every attended one of my themed birthday parties, I’m pretty sure it started here.
The conversation probably went something like this:
Daddy: What kind of party do you want?
Shaka: A Strawberry Shortcake Mickey Mouse.
Daddy: That doesn’t go together.
Shaka: So, I still want it.
Daddy: Ok

So there, my birthday celebration obsession begins. In case you didn’t know, November 10 is a holiday.
🙂

Above is me in my fav hairstyle, two French braids, daddy and I singing the birthday song and of course the MM hats.

Hoecakes! Get your hoecakes

It’s no secret that I was a foodie in my prior life. I love food and until about three years ago I could eat whatever I want and not gain one single pound. Boy those were the days:)
Today I eat almost anything I want in moderation, then I run to the gym and work it off.
Anyway, so knowing that I love food, I’m always taking pics of my food and posting it for my friends to see. I’ve notice that recently people will take pics of their food and tag me in it on Facebook or send it to my phone.
Today my cousin sent a pic of some food he cooked, collards, lemon pepper fish, brown rice and hoe cake.
Right, hoe cake, which is basically like a corn bread patty.
Since this is not the first time he’s sent a meal that included a hoe cake, I said to him, “You love cooking hoe cakes.”
Then my inquisitive mind began to wonder, “Why are these called hoe cakes?”
I told him I was going to Google it, which I did. The answer I found is below, but first let me tell you what my grandma Annie Hardrick said.
I called her and asked why were they called hoe cakes and she didn’t really have an answer, but she told me how to cook them.
“Hoe, cakes are like cornbread, cooked on top of the stove in a skillet.You cook one side, then once it’s brown you flip it and cook the other side,” my grandma said.She continued, “It’s made with meal and water, but you can also make flap jacks, with flour and water.”Grandma said flap jacks are thin and hoe cakes thick. I remember when I was little my other grandma made flap jacks all the time and served them with thick cane syrup. Shout out to Gram in Alabama.
Okay this is what my Goggle search said. “The term hoecake first occurred in 1745, The origin of the name is the method of preparation, field hands often cooked it on a shovel or hoe held to an open flame. Hoes designed for cotton fields were large and flat with a hole for the long handle to slide through; the blade would be removed and placed over a fire much like a griddle.”
Other names are johnny cake, shawnee cake and of course the ever so popular pancake! 🙂
For a variety of hoe cake recipes simply Google it or ask any elder in your family for their recipe. Enjoy

Marquise and his many ties

To a man who wears many ties:

The tie of fatherhood, he calls them his “Trilogy” Marquise Jr., Madison and Mason.
The tie of pastor-ship, not only does he bless the pulpit of Central Metropolitan CME in Jacksonville, Fl. every Sunday, but he’s available 24-7 to his members when needed.
The tie of son, If there were an almost perfect child Charlotte, Rick and Ron has one. But since no one is perfect, we’ll settle for “almost perfect.”
The tie of big brother, Racheatu, Allen, Eugene, Malik,and Rainey has a great leader to look up to.
The tie of Shaka’s Favorite Cousin, that’s a special tie. You’ve always had my back and I’ll always have yours. Point, blank, period. #THEE end.com
The tie of nephew, friend, fraternity brother grandson, and cousin.
For all the ties you wear and for the blessing you are in all of our lives we say thank you and HAPPY 35TH BIRTHDAY!

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May God continue to bless you abundantly.

Happy Birthday to Us

Happy Birthday to meeeee! No not really, everybody knows my birthday is in November, but today my baby turned one.

It was one year ago after the passing of my favorite singer Whitney Houston I had an epiphany. Even though that was a very sad day for myself as well as the world. Nearly a year before that I stopped writing, literally, put my pen down and didn’t write.

I’d allowed a minor setback in my career to take away my passion for writing. It was too painful for me to write or read my work for that matter.

The same night after Whitney died I decided to write again. I realized that life is too short and I didn’t want to waste another second denying myself the joy of writing.

I was exhasted, earlier that day I spent eight hours getting my hair braided, add about three hours of crying to that and you have one drained young lady.

Tired as I was, I didn’t go to sleep until my blog was created and my first piece was up.

A very special thanks to my long time friend and old VOX Teen Newspaper colleague Jamal Branford. We had a three hour chat via Facebook selecting a name for my blog. Every name we came up with was already taken. It was way after 3 a.m. and Jamal was still at work at a Florida newspaper, but he hung in there.

Finally I remembered my friend Erin Harper’s blog http://www.allerinharper.com, that’s it, I need something with my name in it.

The light bulb finally went off and together Jamal and I created the name piecesofcobb, of course I ran it by my husband and he loved it.

Speaking of my love, Roderick, he’s been supportive since day one, always encouraging me to write. I love him and appreciate the support. He co-signs just about anything I want unless it involves dipping into our savings to bail me out.

I’d also like to thank my dear friend Shakira Webb, who was a writer in her former life I’m sure of it.

She wrote my bio in a day and I loved it, I mean who else but a true friend knows I hate sweet tea. Thank you Shakira Dear!

Lastly I’d like to thank all of my other friends, Facebook friends, family,mentors, classmates (Lithonia High, New York Times Student Journalism and Clark Atlanta University) and anyone else who reads my blog. I’m so very grateful!

Love and Blessings

Shaka

Daddy’s Home

Today I read that superstar Usher received primary custody of his two sons with ex-wife Tameka Foster Raymond.

Was I surprised? No, not really!

Actually I’ve been following the case and kind of wished the judge would continue to allow joint custody between the two parents.

In a perfect world the two adults should have worked out their issues without a court of law. I thought after the death of Tameka’s son from her first marriage to Ryan Glover they would stop the custody case, *shrugs*.

I only know what I read on mainstream news sites and blogs (which I read for entertainment purposes only) I’m reading comments on social media sites (also for entertainment purposes) that Usher won because he has money. That statement alone bothers me.

I can remember going through a custody case with my mom and dad. My parents were never married, after they spilt up when I was about four or five mama and I moved back to her hometown of Alabama and daddy stayed in Detroit. I didn’t see my dad for one year straight. Shortly after daddy moved to Atlanta and I saw him often.

My mama soon got married and had other kids, my two brothers and two sisters, another sister came years later. No lie, times were very hard, things were out of control and I was growing up too fast, when all I wanted to do was be a child.

Long story short, my dad suggested to my mama numerous times that I should come live with him, she always said not right now. I can’t blame her; no mom really wants to be without all their kids. Eventually things got worse, and if anyone knew my dad he was the nicest man ever, but once he got fed up it was a wrap.

One day he got fed up and filed for custody. It wasn’t a long drawn out battle, we went to court the day after my 13^th birthday and that same day he was granted temporary custody. Six months later, he was granted full custody.Daddy and I with my first cousin/brother Mikal, Thanksgiving 92, my first in Atlanta

I was happy and sad at the same time. Happy for obvious reasons, but sad because my mama was hurt, I was leaving my sisters, who I had a close bond with, my school, friends and cousins, but it was for the best. No one believed my dad would win custody, he was single (with the exception of a long time girlfriend), he was in and out the hospital with Sickle Cell and he was a man. Daughters don’t live with daddies alone, but I did.

Nothing against my mom, but she needed to be forced to do what I’m sure she wanted to do, but just didn’t have the strength to do and that was give me a better life. Looking back, that decision saved our relationship. I grew and I learned to forgive.

There were lots of things I experienced that I only share when it can benefit others. I wasn’t sexually abused or physically abused for that matter, but the judge felt that I needed healing and removing me from that situation would do that.

I adore my mama and as I got older understood her more. I’m forever in debt to my father, may his soul rest in peace, words cannot describe what he did for me.

Maybe one day Tameka can see that this decision was best for her kids, hopefully she will realize that when fathers fight for their kids, it really has nothing to do with the mother, but everything to do with his love for the child.

Usher and with sons Usher V and Naviyd

Pieces of You: A Father’s Double Tragedy

The first time I talked to Carlos Jeff I didn’t know what to expect. His story is one I was happy to tell, but at the same time wish I didn’t have to. His voice was friendly as if I’m a long-lost home girl. He jokes and we laugh, I wasn’t expecting to laugh, just as he wasn’t expecting what happened on June 7, 2011. Here is his story.

The Invitation…

It was a hot day, first week of summer vacation, as my boys played basketball, their favorite pastime at their mother’s home. We planned to hang out, nothing special, just get a little food and maybe catch a movie later. As Barbara, their mother pulled into the driveway from work the neighbor asked if Cameron and Bryce would like to come play in her pool with a few boys who were visiting. Barbara said yes and relayed the message to them. I’m sure they were very excited because this was their first time being invited to the neighbor’s pool since moving into that home five years prior. Barbara told them get their swim trunks and go over and introduce themselves to the neighbor’s visitors.

Family First…

My sons were incredibly rambunctious and full of life. They enjoyed sports, singing in the choir, their dogs, but more than anything they simply enjoyed being together. As a family we did almost everything together. I, as their father, did a very unconventional job as a stay at home parent for the five children that I raised with Barbara. The children were basically a staircase in ages being two years apart. Cayla,16, Carlos 14, Bria 12, Cameron would have turned 11 on May 9 of this year and Bryce 9. When the boys got the news that they would be swimming they ran to get their trunks. It was a Tuesday evening and just that previous Sunday I had taken the children to a state park for a dip in the lake. We played for a few hours in the water, for the boys loved to water like most kids do when it’s hot, but were never formally trained to swim. A previous drowning incident to a cousin deterred many of our family members from sending the kids to a pool. Barbara told the boys to go over and speak as she undressed from work. She told them she would go to the store for snacks and drinks to share with their new friends.

Tragedy within minutes…

When the boys went to the neighbor’s they entered on the deep end of a nine foot pool. There was a slide and a diving board. Being the first time over they didn’t know the layout of the pool. As they saw the other boys, who could not swim either, playing in the shallow end, they did not realize the difference in-depth in sides of the pool. Bryce went down the slide into the nine foot water. When he went under and realized the depth he immediately panicked. Cameron, always playing the role of big brother jumped in to try to help him. It was a no win situation as both boys began to fight to survive at that point. The boys who watched jumped out and ran for help. There were three adults at the home and none knew how to swim! They watched in horror not knowing what to do to save my sons. One of them ran into the streets begging passing cars to stop and help. She was finally able to get someone to stop. An older man, who lived not far away was passing by with his wife on their way to get dinner. He jumped into the pool and pulled them out, but it was too late. Fireman showed up not soon after and began to perform CPR. The boys fought for their lives in the ambulance.

The phone call…

I received a call from Barbara as the ambulance was loading the boys into the back. I was on my way back to their home to pick them up. If I had just gotten there twenty minutes earlier I would’ve saved them or prevented the accident altogether. I am a trained swimmer and a very strong one also. Just twenty minutes of time has meant a huge difference in my entire life. It has taught me to value every moment I share with my loved ones so much more.

No happy ending…

They boys were two of the strongest physically that one could meet for a 10 and 8-year-old. I am an ex-college football player and would use fitness not only to stay in shape but also as a disciplinary method. The doctors mentioned that they had never seen young boys with fully developed six packs and arms their size. This strength allowed them to hang on longer than most under the circumstances. There is nothing worse than seeing your children fighting for their lives, being shocked by paramedics to jumpstart their hearts. We’ve all seen the hospital shows and sit in awe as the patients overcome tragic accidents or illnesses. However, in this case there would be no happy ending. Bryce, 8-years-old, was under the water longer, around 15 minutes. He fought for two days. It was June 9 and the birthday of my oldest son Carlos Jr. We decided we could not allow them to pronounce him dead on his brother’s birthday. I didn’t want Carlos to have to live with that type of grief every year that his special day came. We were able to keep him on the life support an extra day. Cameron fought until Saturday. I really believe even in death that he wanted to protect his little brother and be with him. When Bryce passed away my family was so consumed with sadness that they all left the hospital, leaving me there alone with Cameron. I remember praying and speaking to him for hours. We were very close. He not only looked exactly like me as a kid, but enjoyed the same things as I did. Six months earlier to their accident I moved to Atlanta to pursue a music career. Cameron would email me every morning before getting dressed for school. His messages usually read something like…”Dad, I’m up early and thinking of you. I want to be the first thing you think about when you get up today”. I really miss those small things.

A preventable death…

When a tragedy strikes your life we go through a ton of mixed emotions. I’ve dealt with the emotions of guilt, shame, anger and pain the most. The guilt kicks in when you think about the things that you might have done that could have prevented this incident. Why didn’t I teach them to swim? Why wasn’t I there to protect them? The anger issues were huge for me because I felt that the adults on that day made poor decisions allowing the boys to enter a nine foot pool with limited supervision. No one there could swim nor did the owners have any life saving devices like floats or a hook to fish them out. My son’s death was preventable.

Helping others…

During the week friends and family poured in from across the nation. Many gave money to help our family in any way we needed. I come from a family rooted in the Christian belief. On Sundays we always attended church together, in fact, my children and a niece were the root of the children’s choir. Bryce was grooming for the lead. He loved to sing and dance and loved to joke about how the women would love him soon. We decided as a family that we had to find a way to bring light to our tragedy and see if we could prevent other parents from feeling a similar pain. We first decided to donate their organs to someone in need. I think of the little girl who received Cameron’s heart regularly. Does she know how much loved poured in and out of that heart? Can she feel his presence each time she breaths?

The Legacies…

We were soon approached with an idea of donating to the Cincinnati Recreation Commission’s (CRC) I CAN SWIM PROGRAM. CRC decided to make a special rate for their lessons in honor of my sons. They would offer four lessons for $20 to each kid who signed up. Our first contribution was a check for over $3,300. It would be a joy to know we could save over 150 kids lives with this donation. After the check given to the CRC I went home feeling bittersweet. I felt like although this was a big donation it was by far not what my sons lives were worth. I decided to continue to seek out my friends to donate more money. I felt that more awareness was needed to shed light on drownings. I found out that drowning was the second biggest cause of death of children under 14. Why is it not talked about more? Why are more provisions placed in areas of danger? Since the initial monies were given to CRC I decided to begin the process of creating a non-profit organization to raise monies to pay for swim lessons for the kids of Cincinnati, but also to fight for amended laws for pool ownership. Almost $20,000 was presented to CRC via friends or supporters. This following year, as we grow stronger, I hope to raise six figures for our new foundation, The Cameron and Bryce Jeff Memorial Foundation. I’m seeking donors, as well as volunteers that would help with legal issues, fund-raising, and as motivational speakers to go out to public pools and get the word of water safety out to the masses.

God and faith…

Many have asked me how I have remained strong throughout this situation. We never know what we can handle until we are faced with it. First of all, my faith in God has been the main factor to me remaining strong. I always thought that if you give your battle to God he will see you through it. I’m faithful in my belief that I will see my sons again in heaven when I pass. Though it is a long, hard walk daily without them present, I am able to walk it, head high, knowing my sons are with God and their legacy shall remain alive for years to come. It’s also through the overwhelming amount of support from family, friends, and strangers that I am able to smile. A few close friends have kept me smiling daily. I also get a huge amount of therapy helping others. Being able to speak with other parents who have a dying child has lifted me. I try to give them encouragement and uplift them in their time of need. Music and poetry have also played a huge role in my recovery. Whenever I’m down I play songs that give me good memories, or I write to ease my mind. One of my favorite songs is Fatherhood, performed by artist from my label Straightface Entertainment Group. This song speaks volumes about the love we have for our children as fathers.

Carlo’s Plea…

If you learn anything from me I hope it would be these things: One, always show your children how much you love them by simply putting time into them. Gifts and material items wear off but genuine love and affection doesn’t. Children love back unconditionally. Secondly, pay attention to the small details in your decision-making. A small mistake can cost you a lifetime of grief. And finally, please teach your children to swim. It’s vital because everywhere you go on Earth is surrounded by water. Don’t let your fears prohibit your learning, nor your circumstances. Live each day like it is your last, for it very well may be.

For more information about how you can help or donate visit Cameron and Bryce Jeff Memorial Facebook Page. You can also contact Carlos Jeff there.

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Cameron-and-Bryce-Jeff-Memorial-Foundation/209518269112876

Written by Carlos Jeff

Editor’s note: After spending close to an hour on the phone with Carlos and receiving his email I decided no one, including me could tell the story the way he did. It is for that reason I posted it as is, with the exception of sub-titles and minor corrections.

Pieces of You: The Big Chop

Since cutting her shoulder length hair at the end of last year Shernise Shaw says she feels free.

Free to swim, free to walk in the rain, free to do other things with the $120 she spent a month going to the salon every Friday faithfully after work.

Her reason for the big chop, also known as BC was simple, “I was tired of my hair thinning, putting unnecessary chemicals in my body and being a slave to my hair.”

Giving up chemicals is becoming a big fashion statement for women of color. While some decide to rock two strand twist, braids, bantu knots and other natural styles many are simply cutting it all off.

Singer Chrisette Michele said of her 2010 big chop, “Truth is I cut my hair for freedom, not beauty.”

Other celebs have walked the infamous red carpet rocking little to no hair including, Viola Davis, Nicole Ari Parker and Kim Cole.

While some decide on the big chop many aren’t ready for such a huge change. A good amount of the ladies on the Facebook Page Transitioning to Natural are some of them, the group has over 5,000 members.

Unlike most women who are taking it one step at a time transitioning from perms, Shaw didn’t.

“I waited until I was ready for the change, I didn’t waste time and money trying to transition,” she said.

On Dec. 16, Shaw made the decision to sit in a salon chair and watch her tresses fall to the floor.

While there are no regrets, she admits that she is ready for her

hair to grow back. However she is enjoying having a new look after wearing the same one for ten years.

Shaw said since cutting her hair life has changed literally; before she would miss events because of the rain. “I protected my hair at all cost,” she said.

“I am living now,” she says. Shaw advises women thinking about the big chop to go for it. The biggest misconception she said is that it’s expensive and time consuming.

“You just have to learn how to manage it,” she said.

Shernise is a school librarian who enjoys reading and eating good food.

Pieces Of You: Gone

When I look back, it seems like everything about how my day started on May 16, 2007 was preparing me for the news I was to receive later that evening. I’d awakened around 8 a.m. and immediately remembered that it was the same day that my dad was to have outpatient surgery to have a hernia removed. He had mentioned it to me three days earlier during Mother’s Day dinner at my grandma’s. He’d read the concerned look on my face and assured me that he’d be “fine” in time for my graduation from Clark Atlanta University less than a week away. I was a little worried but I knew that daddy wouldn’t miss my special day for anything.

It also happened to be my best friend Stephanie’s birthday and I’d made a mental note to call her later and stop by the mall for a gift to bring to her dinner party later on that night. I knew this would be an especially hard celebration. Just nine months earlier her dad had died in a tragic accident days before his 50th birthday. I felt terrible about the fact that her dad would not be there for her birthday. I thought to myself how lucky I was to still have my daddy around and that I wouldn’t know what to do if anything ever happened to him.

I turned on CNN to learn some bad news. It had been one month to the day of the deadly Virginia Tech rampage. Then I heard that Martin Luther King Jr.’s daughter, Yolanda King, had died unexpectedly. Yolanda King? No! Everybody loves the Kings. Hearing about her death felt like losing an aunt. My eyes welled up with tears and I was overcome with sadness. When I went to the mall for Stephanie’s gift, an eerie feeling flooded through me as I passed the sympathy section in the card store. My Uncle Howard, my dad’s younger brother, immediately popped into my mind. I remembered thinking how sad my dad would be if something happened to him. By then it was noon and I decided to check on my dad who should have been home recovering by then. He answered on the third ring but I could tell that he was still groggy so I kept it brief.

Me: Daddy?

Dad: Yeah.

Me: You home?

Dad: Yeah.

Me: You alright?

Dad: Yeah (weakly).

Me: OK, I was just checking on you I will call you later.

Dad: Okay.

Me: Bye.

I never imagined that such a simple conversation would one day mean so much to me. What I didn’t know was that he was in terrible pain during our talk. At exactly 4:59 p.m. as I was dressing for the night, my Uncle Howard called my cell. I’d considered letting it roll over straight to voicemail, but thankfully decided against it. He told me that my dad was having complications from the surgery and I needed to get to the hospital quick. I continued dressing, but less than a minute later panic set in and I grabbed my keys and ran to my car. While maneuvering Atlanta streets I dialed my daddy’s number and his wife answered. She told me that she was riding in the ambulance with him and he wasn’t doing too well.

“Is my dad dead,” I asked? She paused before saying no, but emphasized that it didn’t look good. I don’t know how I made it to the hospital in the middle of Atlanta ’s rush hour, but when I got there I double parked, left my emergency lights blinking and sprinted inside. Through the double doors I found the room where my aunt and step-mom were waiting.

“Where is my daddy,” I asked, terrified about what answer I’d get.

“He’s gone,” my aunt responded, her voice trailing off.

”Gone where,” I asked. Gone for x-rays, surgery, a soda what?

She didn’t answer, but her face said it all.

The last thing I remember was screaming, “No my daddy’s not dead; my daddy didn’t leave me, he’s never left me.”

Everything went in slow motion like a dream after that; my uncle picking me up, my flip flops falling off, my phone and keys falling to the floor, the man in the white jacket assisting my uncle, the lady sitting in the chair with tears rolling down her face as she repeated the words,” I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

I don’t know how long time stood still but when the clock started ticking again my hair was a mess, I was barefoot and I just wanted to see my daddy for myself. When I walked into the room his eyes were wide open, he still had a tube in his mouth and tubes stuck to his chest. He looked normal, I touched his face, and it was still soft and warm. I kissed his cheeks and rubbed my fingers across his thick eyebrows as I held his hand.

The next morning it still felt like a dream when I awoke with his picture next to me. I instinctively picked up my cell to call my daddy; he didn’t answer. I left a message, hoping, no praying, that he would call back. He always called me back, but he never did.

My dad’s been gone for 13 years now and it’s been tough adjusting to life without him. Even though I know that in his death he is still very much with me, I’ll admit that feelings of betrayal, sadness, anger and fear often overtake me. What gives me solace is knowing that God gave me 27 years with an absolutely amazing, supportive and loving father. I thank the Lord for the fact that I’m not one of those girls – and I know many – whose dad walked out on her. I cherish the memories that we shared and I give gratitude to God for blessing me with such a wonderful man. In losing my father, I can see so clearly that because of him I am the amazing woman I am today.

Written by: Shaka Lias Cobb

Pieces of Cobb

Kernels of Wisdom, Truth and Life

Category Archives: Personal Pieces