The Greatest Thing

He didn't walk me down the aisle. Because there are no aisles at the Town Hall. But he was there. Five years later, when it all went from sugar to shit- he never once said 'I told you so.' Instead, he bore it all in silence. The way a man does when there is nothing he can do about his little girl's pain- other than share it while wishing he could eradicate the source. He wanted more for me than he could give but he gave what he could. His all.

They say I'm the most like him. There are times when I wonder how different it would be with us, had we not pelted one another with stone-heavy words. Fought each other tooth and nail. Those were some of the darkest days I have ever known. I was the only one of his three children to look him in the eye and say "I'm not afraid of you anymore." I was fifteen. That alone tipped the axis. There were no more beatings. Only equally matched brawls. Now I know. He wasn't angry so much as desperate for better times. Brighter days.

I look back on those days and see now that we needed those times. I had to remember that I was still his child. And he had to learn how to let go. Widowed and worn but by no means broken, he showed me the definition of strength. His eyes are softer now. With the slightest halo of blue-gray around the iris, but a fire still glows in the pupils. I could live to be twice his age and never fathom what has put that look in them. That world-weariness and dignity all at once. A look that says he has seen more than he cares to talk about- and lived through more than I could ever fictionalize. Trinidad in the sixties. New York in the eighties. And God knows what else.

He has never been a wealthy man. But if you were to ask him what his riches are- he would tell you in a heartbeat that we are his treasures. My sisters, my nieces, my nephews, the great-grandchildren. Myself. More precious to him than the jewel encrusted Taj Mahal. His pillars of pride. I look in those eyes and see a thousand devoted sojourns. Just so we could all be here.