Things I Miss, by Roger Black Jr.

1) Working a regular job
2) taking care of household responsibilities
3) Responsibilities in general
4) Being in control of what and where I eat
5) Sitting and laughing with female friends
6) Genuine friends
7) The feel of carpet beneath my bare feet
8) Sending and receiving text messages
9) the taste of a fresh hamburger off the grill with all the works
10) the sound of the turbo kicking in on my 6.5 liter diesel
11) the feel of the air hitting my face as I drive
12) being able to go into a store
13) sitting and watching people as I drink coffee at McDonald’s
14) the river bank
15) fishing
16) camping
17) boating
18) go karts and rail buggies
19) bon fires
20) a nice cold beer with dinner

but I don’t miss any of it as much as I miss that first kiss from my daughter when she was 15 months old, only days before I got locked up.
So why was the first kiss when she was fifteen months old, you ask? Well, for the first five months of her life I seen her two times. Her mother and I had a problem we couldn’t agree on; she says I was the problem, I say she was. None the less, it was my choice to not get involved till we got a paternity test. For the next nine months of her life I was locked up for a PV because I allowed my sixteen year old sister (who was on probation) to come into my house to use the rest room. During that nine months we received the paternity test and results proved *I* was the problem, not her mother. I was able to see my daughter at visits on two occasions following the paternity test results, but she wanted nothing to do with me holding her or even trying to interact too much. I couldn’t blame her, after all, *I* made the choice to not be involved even before I was back in prison on a PV. She was almost a year old then and had never seen me because she slept the first two times she was in my arms. Although I had my issues, I never doubted she was mine. (Like I said, the paternity test proved I was the problem. I have been the problem many times over I might add.) I went home from that PV four days before her first birthday. For the next four months I seen her as often as possible– at least when I wasn’t too busy being the problem her mother and I had to deal with. During that four months I was trying to build a bond with my daughter. The only time that she was interested in bonding is when I had her by myself and others tried to hold her. Then she would cry and reach for me. That was the greatest feeling; having her *want* me instead of someone else. The biggest reason was that her mother and brothers weren’t around at the moment. I wouldn’t ever “win” her attention over them. She did get to the point that she would play peak-a-boo and other little games with me while her mother and brothers were around, long as I didn’t try to hold her and leave the area. It was at that last visit however that marked the biggest progress. She was more interactive with me than she ever had been. She was initiating the games. I was making progress, I was very happy that day. It was at this visit that I got her to give me a kiss for the first time. That kiss inspired a poem, and after I said all of that, I want to share that poem with you:

“The first day she kissed daddy”
By Roger S Black Jr 12/11/17

I remember it like it was yesterday;
it was the first time she kissed daddy;
it was our last visits face-to-face in 2015;
forever this memory will continue to remain.
We were having lunch on Alum Creek;
until this day all she would offer me is her cheek;
she was eating a chocolate chip cookie;
when I asked her to share it with me;
this was turning out to be a great day
she seemed to be excited to share with her daddy.
I asked for a kiss, but she leaned away from me;
she quickly held that cookie up for daddy;
again I leaned close and asked for a kiss;
this day I dwell on, because many more I would miss.
she offered that cookie several times before kissing daddy;
she couldn’t possibly know what that first kiss meant to me;
often I reminisce about all of this;
she leaned toward me and gave me a kiss;
then she leaned towards mommy for a kiss;
then back to me, making a game of this.
She continued going from mommy and back to me;
and just to think that was the first day she kissed daddy;
this made me feel great, I almost grew weak;
because as I said, all I got before was her cheek.
My world turned upside down three days later;
as I laid on that rack writing her that first letter;
sentenced to serve 26 to life for this case;
that was the last time I seen her face-to-face.
So I am sure she will not recall it as vivid as me;
but I will forever remember the first day she kissed daddy.

So as I share this poem that I have written two and a half years ago, I am yet to see my beautiful little girl face-to-face; she knows me though. Those closest to her made sure she knew who I am. When we talk she makes it known that she knows “Jr” is her real daddy. When she was 3 she said, “Jr, I know who you are. You’re my real daddy.” I cried that day. I cried because I was happy she was being taught about who I am, and I cried because I was missing out on being her real daddy. Amarah -my daughter- will be six in July; and of everything in this world, there is nothing I miss more than the few precious moments I spent with her. She holds onto the words I tell her, so I am sure to remind her that she is the most beautiful and smart little girl I know every time we talk. Now she tells me, “I remember when you told me I am the smartest little girl you know.” This past Christmas I was able to get help sending her a Christmas gift. We sent her a winter hat, mitts, and a large bag of Hersey kisses. She was sure to tell me she got the items. Something so simple meant so much to her. I hope to find help getting her a birthday and Christmas gift this year. Either way, I will be sure to fill her mind with positive affirmations

Roger Black #729370
PO Box 740
London, Ohio 43140

Categories: family, poems, Roger Black Jr.

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s