Meet Gregory Madison

My favourite part about the book is when Maleeka finds out that her Dad, Gregory,
wrote poems. Her father died when she was still young, and she does not have a lot of memories about him. When Maleeka shows her mother her writings, she answers: "You're a good writer. Like your father." (pg. 122-123). To Maleeka, this is a surprise. She finds out that her Dad wrote letters and poems, and that her mother keeps them in a box in her closet, together with other things such as photos and documents. 

When Maleeka opens the box, tears come to her eyes. Then she even finds a poem that her father wrote for her: 

Brown
Beautiful
Brilliant
My my Maleeka
is
Beautiful
Brilliant
Mine

Maleeka reads the poem over and over again. "Momma is calling me. I can't answer. My mouth is full of Daddy's words, and my head is remembering him again. Tall, dark, and smiling all the time." (pg. 123)

I love this part and find it deeply touching. 

At home (1994)

My own father died when I was sixteen, and I can absolutely understand Maleeka's reaction. I guess everyone who's ever lost a loved one can. It's knowing that you'll never again be able to talk to him, ask him your questions. That's why you have to rely on things like pictures, letters, notes, documents, and the memories of other people. 

At home (1993)

A couple of weeks ago, a friend who went to high school with my dad visited my mom. I had dinner with them and loved hearing them talk about old memories. My parents met shortly before graduation, but that woman knew him since 5th grade. They were close friends. She had so many fun stories to tell about him, things that I haven't known before, and that I was probably still too young to know or be interested in when he was still alive. 

Skiing in Bavaria (1996)

Vacation in Florida (1994)

So now, my only chance to find out these kinds of things is through other people. I feel like I'm getting to know my father even more through their memories, and am grateful that they share them with me. 

Vacation in Toscany
(2000)

My dad and my sister (and our dog),
fishing in Sweden (2002)

I'm sad that I never got to know my father from a grown-up perspective. As a child, he was the best father a girl could ask for, but now that I'm older, I would have loved to have him with me, supporting me, giving me advice, and sharing everything with him. There are so many things that he missed, and many more to come. 
But by remembering him, reading letters (or e-mails) that I treasure, looking at pictures, and talking to my family and (his) friends about him, and I can try to imagine what his feelings and views would be of decisions that I make and things that I experience. This way, I feel like a part of him - I know this sounds cheesy! - lives on, and that he isn't that far away from me after all.