Father’s Day

I’m going to make you proud, Dad. Just watch.

He begged me to check into the hospital. He begged me to sleep. To take my medication. I wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t listen. My mission was too important. I was on the verge of a major breakthrough. I was going to be rich. Famous. Successful.

I’m going to make you proud, Dad. Just watch.

Those were the last words I said to my Dad last Father’s Day. Within 48 hours of uttering those words, I was lying on the floor, bleeding to death from a gunshot wound to the abdomen.

It is heart-wrenching to hear my Dad recall that experience. I can only imagine the horror at hearing words that no parent wants to hear. Your son has been shot by the police. He is in critical condition. He may not make it.

He visited me in ICU when I was unconscious. He visited me when I woke up. He visited me in jail several times. Each time he flew from Boston to Dallas. Each time we spoke, he had hope that I would one day recover. That one day, I would have the opportunity to make him proud

On the one year anniversary of “the incident”, my father shared with me and several close family members that he was proud of me. My dad never cared about me being rich or having a high-powered career. His only desire was for me to be healthy in body, mind, spirit.

I have a long way to go. But I am so grateful that I have my Dad with me. He has done so much for me. It fills me with contentment, knowing that after a year of turmoil, I’ve finally given him a reason to be happy. The work is far from over. There is still much room to grow. But this Father’s Day, my Dad is proud of me.