Letter From Mr Anderson

I stood to the right in my late Dad’s room, there were wardrobes along the side with the table in front of me. He was already in the room, standing to the left near the side window, a middle aged black man, he was one of my builders, he brought out of his pocket a rather rumpled letter he claimed he forgot to give me. It was a letter a man had asked him to give me for sometime now. He handed it over, the letter was handwritten on white lined paper with black ink pen, it was not in an envelope, the handwriting was scrawly. The letter was from an elderly man I’m not sure his name but I will call him Mr Anderson. The full content of the letter I can not remember but in it Mr Anderson was asking to be a father unto me.

Since my father died before my 17th birthday I have carried a deep lost in my heart. A lost I did not understand or knew how to process, a lost that had lead me to places I had no business with and people that I had no business with either. I was looking for a Dad in people that were not called or chosen to father me, for 35 years I wandered around fatherless doing my best to nurse and dress my wound. I dealt with the gapping hole in my heart the best way I know. The absence of a Dad brought it’s own unique challenges, there was no safety net, security, defender, provider. I lacked confidence, I was intimidated, unsure and constantly afraid. I carried a deep inferiority complex around and dealt like I needed permission to be alive, to be a human being. I was abused, used, dismissed and discarded.

Today I am more confident, established and grounded, I have a better understanding of my worth as a human being. It is an ongoing work but I am putting in the hours. I walk straighter with my heads up and I meet gaze for gaze. I understand today that I am a daughter of the universe. That as a human being, I am created to be dynamic and a force to be reckoned with. I live out this truth and awareness daily.

I still have the gapping hole of missing my Dad, but I know how to tend to my hole in a healthy and wholesome manner. I try not to fill it with junk. I learn to pursue my passion, cultivate my gifts, be a blessing to my generations, find my ‘Tara’ and tend my field. But today as I hold on tightly to the letter from Mr Anderson, I wonder if this is true or a fluke of my longing imagination, if Mr Anderson truly exists and how do I find him. Mr Anderson did not put his contact details on the letter and Mr ‘Builder’ is confused about his whereabouts.

To all who seek Mr Anderson, may your heart be comforted!💕