Bruce...Is one of a kind

The minute that you meet this man, you will, I promise you will be compelled to laugh, and while chuckling, say to yourself, "he is one of a kind."

I'm not sure what kind of breed he is exactly, what Nana Gomes was eating during the 1940's, or what kind of special genetic make up grandpa Butler had, considering he was a Micmac Indian, roots tracing back to the Wokokomog tribe in Novia Scotia Canada, since I did not have the opportunity to get to know him, I do not know the side he contributed in making this man, I'm describing.

What I know is I have experienced to the deepest degree, a man who never fails to surprise me with his next move. He is completely Ambitious, Passionate and Positive, My Father , has a special gift--one of which he has rightfully shared with me.

Today, like any other Sunday, I woke up with a light heart, I had a great, unplanned weekend with my lovely friend Kat and newly introduced uncle Joel, Tonye and his lovely family, engagement with James Brown: healthy, conversation, great barbecue and bonding...that I love.

As much as I love my father, who for the last month has not been coming to church with me on Sunday's. He's either been working or staying home resting, not exactly comfortable wearing the only clothes he owns: a black tee-shirt, button sweater, a pair of faded black jeans, a fleece over coat and worn white sneakers.

If you have ever met my father, you know that this description of his outer appearance is far from what you would ever see him in.

It's usually the long, black jacket that you see, blocks away, lined underneath with some kind of very coordinated suit, two handkerchiefs strategically placed in the pocket of his jacket, a clean button down to match his suits, socks and shined black shoes.

But for the past few months his life has not on the outside looked as polished.

Today, as he does every Sunday, he called me and asked if I was going to church. My answer to him was "Yes." Then he asked if I would stop by to get him.

As I was driving to his house, dressed what he often describes as a sophisticate, I imagined he got his hand on a suit, maybe even a pair of shoes, one handkerchief.

But that wasn't the case.

My father came out in his the one pair of jeans he owns, his fleece over coat, button down sweater and over worn, white sneakers.

Compelled and speechless. I just shook my head and smiled.

This man is one of a kind. I sighed. in ah...God gave me a word, for all the he has been through, he still possess the beauty from within, tries with all his might to walk in that light, touches everyone lives that he comes across, no matter his past...and loves with such a open, empathetic heart.

I tell him often,especially when he is down "Dad you have something special." A gift I call it. And day by day I realize that what I feel inside about this man who no matter the circumstance has endured, homeless, afflicted...he is the first person I've ever met and grown to love completely, wholly and unconditionally.

A few weeks ago coming to church in this state was not a question. But today apparently he woke up willing to share that contagious inner smile, he has.

A man who is simply one of a kind has touched my life. And though our relationship has not always gone smoothly, I can say as time progresses, my love for him grows, my heart is filled with appreciation...and say to myself, what a blessing is it to have this time to reflect...this life to appreciate...this man to love.

What a gift...