• Bre'a Belle

Eye in the Sky

Updated: Sep 23, 2019

My (biological) old man turned 48 and even though my childhood and teens were rocky, I'm thankful for him. I've been hurt, but I also laughed until I cried and learned so much from him that I truly couldn't ask for anyone else to be one of my dads.

When you're 5 years old and meet someone new and find out that they're your dad, you're scared shitless. I was in complete shock (and angry for a very big portion of my life). For a long time there was so much that I didn't understand and when all of the stories unraveled, I didn't know what to think. I'll admit, I didn't actually call him "Dad" until I was at least 12 years old.

For a long time, I struggled with feeling like I wasn't good enough. I struggled with feeling abandoned and forgotten. But eventually I came to terms with everything and made the decision to put everything in the past and move on. I learned that you can't be happy unless you learn to forgive people. I decided that anything that happened before I was born was over and done with and all I could do was try to form a relationship with the people in my family that I grew to love and cherish over the years.

My dad was my best friend for a long time. He signed for my first tattoo and he was the first person to learn that I wanted to commit suicide. I could be open with him and share things without being afraid that he'd beat me half to death. I'm pretty sure that I drove him crazy just as much as I did my mom (I was their little rebel). For so long, I was just like him. That was how I learned to get what I wanted without getting hurt. He made me cold blooded and taught me how to keep people at a distance to avoid getting hurt.

I'm still like him in a lot of ways. We're both long winded and could talk for days about absolutely nothing (I have to plan a weekend that I'm off for us to actually talk on the phone). We're both obsessed with conspiracy theories (don't get him started on the Illuminati unless you plan on staying for a while). We both love to keep to ourselves to enjoy doing the things we love. My other dad introduced me to a Nightmare on Elm Street for the very first time and they both taught me to not be afraid (I've done the same thing with Draven). They've both showed me so many things in life that have made me who I am (80s horror movies, old school rap, and 80s music).

Some of my favorite memories took place on Bell Street in Princeton, WV and for a good portion of my life, that was my happy place. That was where I gained my independence and found out who I was. I got my kind heart and my weakness of giving the benefit of the doubt from him. He'd help anybody even if they've stabbed him in the back.

The man is as fucking slick as they come and there's no doubt in my mind that he has a third eye (if Eye in the Sky is playing, I'll bet you my entire salary that he knows exactly what one of us is doing). None of us could ever get anything past him because we are all like him in our own unique ways. It's like we're pieces of his soul.

He'll be the first to tell you that I'm exactly like Granny Bay Bay (he's felt her wrath and can tell you that I'm her made over. It's hilarious because I realized one day that there was no denying it). He's pretty bad ass when he gets mad enough to fight (have you ever seen someone catch an old school tricycle mid air with one hand and throw it back?). He's always supported me with whatever decisions I make and he'll tell you that once my mind has been made up or if I set out to do something, there's no changing my mind because I stand firm behind whatever may be going on.

When I thought that I had lost him, my rage was enough to open the gates of Hell (I was ready to drive from Huntington to Princeton in the middle of the night to shut shit down). I always get these weird feelings when something bad is about to happen. He had had a TIA (a mini stroke) and that made his third one. For an entire day, the left side of my body ached (from my shoulder to my toes) and I could hardly move. I got the call that he was going to the hospital and it was possible that he had another stroke. I spent what felt like an eternity preparing myself for the moment that they told me he was gone.

Thankfully he was able to pull out of it (my 11th grade Chemistry teacher ended up passing away and a week later my great grandmother had a full blown stroke). My dad has never had the best health, but that was one of the most terrifying moments of my life and if I wasn't a nurse, I would have worried myself to death. I just wasn't ready to let him go and 15 years would have never been enough time with him to accept his death. No matter how many years passes, I'll still feel like we didn't make up for lost time.

One of the best things to ever happen to me was to be able to walk with both of my dads down the aisle at my wedding. For years it felt like they were constantly out to get rid of each other. I really liked having two dads (I'm pretty sure my teachers always thought that my dads were gay when I said I had two of them). I don't think anyone truly knows how much that meant to me. I never thought I would see the day.

When I look at the picture of the two of them smiling as they finished giving me away, it feels like they've truly set their differences aside for me. It's always been about me and making me feel loved and happy. When I see their smiles, it feels like they both loved me unconditionally and always will.

I'm so incredibly thankful for my dad and all of the other family members that came into my life because of him. I suck at communication, but I hope he knows how much I've enjoyed every single minute of the last 18 years. It's simply been one hell of a ride.