A Father’s Love is the true story of a father’s battle to be a part of his son’s life. You can read access all of the chapters in the Table of Contents.
I was putting the finishing touches on my response to the TRO… 13 pages on me describing how disgusting and vile Camille was and that was a revised copy. I don’t remember how long my first draft was. I attacked her and broke down her whole life… abuse and depression issues… her views on men… how she told me I changed her and made her feel special… and her desire to punish me because I didn’t want her. It was a work of art. I went into things I haven’t told anyone. It’d probably take a month for me to explain everything in detail. I really could literally write a book about all of the things I went through and I haven’t even gotten to the main purpose of my writing all of this, yet.
I let my mother and brother read it and they said it sounded good, but they were in shock. They had no idea of everything I went through. I’ve never been one to bad mouth my relationships to others while I’m in them. I don’t need the added stress of family and friends telling me what I should do in my own relationship. Family and friends mean well, but they usually just make a situation worse. A big part of any relationship is the feelings involved. How can someone that doesn’t have the same feelings for whomever I’m dating that I have, tell me to do in my relationship with my feelings involved? They can’t. They finally understood what I was dealing with and they just responded, “we’ll keep you in prayer.”
So here I was all gun ho and ready to send off my response to the TRO and the rest of my paperwork. I had a counteraction typed up… all my i’s were dotted and my t’s crossed… I was ready to raise hell all kinds of hell up in the courtroom. How dare Camille or anyone else do this for that matter! I had the gloves on, the tims laced, and somebody was about to get knocked the fuck out! But then a funny thing happened. I got a Yahoo IM pop up.
“Hey Precious, how are you? I don’t know why but you’ve been heavy on my spirit so I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
At first, I was like “Oh here we go… another message from a fucking woman! But just as soon as I got ready to hit delete, divine intervention stepped in…
Monique was someone that I met somewhere online… I don’t remember when or where I met her. I know it wasn’t Myspace, because I had just joined it and all of this was way before then. At the time I didn’t even know what Monique looked like, I had only known her for a short time back then and never saw her picture; although she saw mine. She lived 20 mins away from me but we still never met. From the first time I talked to her, there was just something about her. She was literally like the older sister I never had. She talked a lot of sh*t, was very competitive, and her sh*t was tight. She was in her late 30’s, a psychologist with her own practice, and an 11 year old son. She was doing her thing and had this “down to earthness” about her that was really cool. “Precious” was our nickname for each other. Not as a term of endearment, but you know how you never call mentally disabled kids retarded? You say “Oh they’re so… umm… precious.” That was our way of telling each other that we’re crazy.
Monique didn’t know anything that was going on with me at that time and I didn’t intend on telling her… especially since I was still hating women. I don’t know if it was because she said I was heavy on her spirit or whatever, but something said, “Call her.” So I did and told her what was going on. After I assured her I was serious, I asked her to read my response to the court.
Thank God for Divine Intervention.
“Please tell me you haven’t submitted this to the court, yet.”
“No, I haven’t what’s up?”
Monique schooled me. She schooled me real good. All of the anger, frustration, and hatred I felt was evident in my response. Monique said she felt it. And although I have a right to be mad, the only thing the court cared about is my love for Isaiah. If I had no plans to take him out of the country, then state that and move on. Who cares if Camille lied and said she feels that I’d create fake identities using my dead brother’s names and take Isaiah out of the country? Who cares if everything she’s saying is a bunch of lies? The focus needs to be about Isaiah and Isaiah only. The only thing my response would do is portray me as an angry man that’s full of hatred and the court will have no choice but to keep the restraining order going. She ministered and prayed with me until that hateful spirit was cast out of me.
Thank God for Divine Intervention
The hate was gone (although I still wasn’t feeling women), but there still was a problem. I still had a response to write.