Michael Jackson Imagines and Short Stories

I Remember

I Remember: 6

All I can remember is falling down into his arms. I crumpled, letting him hold all of my anger, disappointment, sadness, fear and he replaced it with comfort and a feeling of safety. My thoughts melted and I allowed myself to rest on him. I let him do what a father does, finally letting my guard down.

Although I didn't fully understand the way I do now, I still recognized the insurmountable difficulty that he and my mother faced. I now commend my father, no matter how late I may be. His strength was something that I still cannot fully comprehend. I don't know how he got through most of his later days, knowing that he would be met with ridicule. I don't know how he went through his later days, having to force himself from being selfish and putting my childhood in the spotlight. I don't know how he dealt with the unkind words that I threw at him, knowing that the choices that he and my mother made were the best that they could think of. If I could just see him one more time. His smile. To hear his voice in person gently scolding me or teasing me. Humming a tune as I fell asleep in his arms. I would just...

He held me, and we cried together for a very long time. He rocked me back and forth and cooed,

"It's alright...I love you. Daddy's got you...go on and cry. I love you so much." He kissed the top of my head and stroked my hair. I felt so calm and protected. When I finally looked up, he was smiling down at me. I stared at him for a while, and then he said,

"What? What is it? Do I have something on my face?" He joked, comically rubbing his cheek. I laughed a little and said,

"No... dad." I caught him off guard. He was puzzled, but as tears brimmed his eyes, he hugged me tightly. He kissed my head again, and I said,

"Okay, okay. Haven't you kissed and hugged me enough?" He laughed and then mischievously whispered,

"Never!" He picked me up and spun me around, then started to tickle me, and I laughed. I squirmed out of his arms running towards the water, daring him to chase me. We stared each other down, like in a mock Western flick, and then in a split second, sand was kicked up, and he was after me. I ran into the water, screaming, and then I splashed him. He splashed back, and it turned into a war. After a while, we were laughing so hard that we couldn't do anything but grab our stomachs and fall in the water. We rolled back on to the sand, and kept our feet in the waves. They came up and drew sand from under our feet rhythmically, revealing long lost seashells. I drew in the sand, and squished my toes in it when the water came back up, making a funny sound. My dad looked out on the water again, and chuckled to himself, shaking his head down between his knees.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing, really..."

"No, tell me!" I said shoving him.

"Alright, okay!" He laughed, defending his body, and then he sighed,

"A long time ago, I almost drowned here." He poked his eyes to the side, sneaking a look at my shocked face.

"When! How?" I said.

"Hmm...it had to be in the later 70s. Uncle Jermaine's old home was right down the street that way," he pointed in the opposite direction of the car. He continued,

"And I was visiting, just hanging out. I came down here to swim. All I can remember is that a wave came over me, and the next minute, I couldn't breathe. Jermaine drove me to the hospital, and I was told that my lung collapsed." He looked at me again, and started to guffaw.

"What the heck! That's not funny, you almost died!" He shook his head and said,

"That-that's not why I'm laughing...your face is just hilarious." I realized that throughout his recount of the story, I was looking at him incredulously; my eyes popped open, furrowed eyebrows, and a down turned lip. I was about to speak, but a voice from behind interrupted,

"Michael Jackson?"