Today my son said to me

“I miss my dad.”

A dad you have never known.

Who was not there when you were born,

Or when you took your first steps,

Or for your first tooth,

Or had your first girlfriend

Because she liked your

Toothbrush,

Or danced to your first Bruno Mars song,

Or first cried

When Killmonger died,

Or asked why someone told you

“I don’t like brown people,”

Or when you helped

Stop a fight for the first time.

 

But I understand.

I don’t disagree.

Because I know

You are not talking about

Your birth father.

But a father figure

A man to show you

How to be

A man.

A man

To show you

It is ok to cry,

It is ok

To be honest

And open.

A man

To be there

Every day

To show you

How a man

Loves.

 

I know

The fear

And anxiety

Of raising a young

Black boy.

But I do not,

Will not,

Know

What it feels like

To BE

A young black boy.

 

I wish I could erase

The question mark

That follows

Empty space.

I wish I could

Be enough,

Fill enough family

And friends

Into that hole.

But a father

Is irreplaceable.

 

We are two

Not three.

But we are also

Adored

And supported

And inspired

And happy.

So maybe,

Just maybe,

We stop counting

And accept

And love

That we are.