Sing Me a Song Papa

Remember the time when I cried because I wanted to become a Cub Scout and Mama said I was too soft a boy to be one? And how I broke Mama’s sewing machine trying to sew the patches on my Cub Scout uniform? Remember how you came to my rescue by telling Mama that I was trying to save her the time to do it and that my being independent was a good thing?

Remember when I almost set the kitchen on fire trying to bake a surprise birthday cake for my best friend Jacob who lived down the street? Remember how we went out and bought a new pan to replace the one I burned up?

Remember how Mr. Jones, the strange man who lived at the corner, who tried to do stuff to me that no eleven year old should experience? Remember how you listened to Jason and believed him and came to my rescue? Remember how I thanked you, thanked you so much, Papa?

Remember when I turned twelve and found out that Jason, my friend since the fifth grade, was moving to Utah, and how I cried for days? Remember when I told you that I loved Jason and that he loved me, how you never treated me different than you treated Pete and Michael? Even when they found every opportunity to make fun of me and ridicule me, especially when they had their friends over?

Remember the day my high school coach found me in the shower with two black eyes, a broken rib, and bruised in places that left me unable to carry on my share of the family tree? Remember how you still loved me and stood by me through all the harassment I suffered for me being me?

I will always be who I am, a little different, maybe. But I am who I am. Many called me awful names, called me fag, or called me gay boy. Even though I have many friends who are, even though I have a beautiful girlfriend, I just ignored their remarks, their cheap shots.

I have been the way I am since as far back as I remember. Papa, you accepted me as I was, you never labeled me, and you always loved me as your beautiful angel boy.

I’m here Papa, remember me? Remember how you would sing me a song when I was just a boy? You have always been here for me, Papa. All through my days of rejection and pain you never turned your back on me. Your love for me never grew cold. Thank you, Papa, for all you’ve done for me.

Papa, I was wrong thinking I would never carry on our family line. I want to introduce your new grandsons, Jacob and Jason, to you Papa. Beth and I adopted two boys whose parents lost their lives to AIDS. We will love them for who they are and stand by them, the same way you loved me and stood by me.

If I had one thing to ask of you, Papa, it would be this. Just like you used to do for me, Papa. Sing us a song Papa.

Listen to Dance With My Father Again by Luther Vandross on YouTube.

Blind Eagle