Felicia Bennett and her father , Lavadus Coley , in the early ‘ 90s .
These Three Words
L ife and death . Two defiant partners who chose to do a 24-hour contra dance on January 8 with the two most important men in my life . Never in a million years would I expect my father to pass on the exact same day my husband received a cancerous biopsy result . My emotions were thrust into a tailspin , running towards the Daddy ' s Little Girl who somehow lost grip of his hand ( and her title ) decades ago , while suiting up to be the steadfast partner to fight the battle of survival for my husband of nine months . On this life-changing day , the three most important words that I needed to say to both men were different , yet equally profound . My father ' s emotional absence was a subtle riff my entire life that only grew into a crescendo after he remarried . The emotional detachment grew with every passing milestone . I learned to love him from afar , and even when he left a trail of broken promises , I learned to step over them instead of scarring my soul .
A debilitating stroke had me staring down at the shell of a man I once knew , void of all communication as he lay in his deathbed , drawing his last breath . A peaceful sight that erased all other memories . It was at this moment , beneath that heaving chest I knew there was the heart of a man who once called me his Baby Girl . I had to let him know that , on the dusk of a cold , January day and his transition , I was here . Bending down , I gently kissed his forehead and let him know what we both needed to hear . I forgive you .
CONTINUED ON PAGE 30
14 The Well Magazine / Spring 2013
By Felicia Bennett