Eff. My daughter has my eyes sweating something heavy this morning. My dad has been on my mind heavy af this past week, thinking about a bunch of things. This is the first* Christmas since he died.

2017, I learned I was more like him then I ever knew, and that's saying alot.

She runs down into my room this morning talking about "Daddy, I pasted this picture of the Great One in this book. Can I have it?" I'm confused, I don't know what she's talking about.

This the joint she posted. First of all, her crafting skills have me shook. But I'm like what book is this???

It's a journal, part of Oprah's Master class series. This is her forward but the message at the top is what has me shook. "Make Money, don't let money make you. Loved you 1st. - Kenneth White, Dad." Dated my birthday in 2014.

I've talked many times about how me and my dad's relationship was estranged. and it ALWAYS boiled down to money. I always felt like he loved money more than he loved me. Always felt like he chose dollars over spending time with me. So the irony is rich.

Now that's he's gone, I be thinking about all of our interactions. Tryna dig deeper, find the meanings one way or another. Or at least, understanding. Especially as I grow older, wiser, more cultured and gain more experiences. My perspective changes as I change.

I've inherited so much clout and prestige solely from being Kenny's son. Shit's wild lowkey. Like, I ain't realize how much of that nigga he was. He used to tell me all the time "im a bad man", but you know, that's just black man speak.

Friday, I was in the Pelican Room celebrating with @Rioozayyy and @VellDebarge . My brother's also in town so I invited him out. I'm introducing him (My brother) to folk, and I got to introduce him to another "mover and shaker" and he embraces my brother with familiarity.

I'm confused, salty at my brother like "nigga, you don't even live here. Get off my turf" lmfao. Turns out that my dad used to employ the guy and was part responsible for teaching him the ropes. Two weeks ago, I had just met with him about doing some work together.

It's crazy how life be circling back on itself. This aint the first time that type of thing has happened. My dad knew alot of people. Knew alot of influential people in his time, and also planted the seeds to influence alot of the people making shit happen RIGHT NOW...

Obviously including me. lol.

This is 25 year old Malcolm seeing all of this shit... and thinking, "yeah but when I was 6 or 7 or 8, and all I wanted was my dad to be around, him going out and building this repoire in the city aint mean nothing." Obviously it means something to me now.

Quintessential "you'll understand when it's over." because one of my daughter's *favorite* refrains is "oh you're working? Could you jus spend some time with me." And I think, Baby Queen, you can't tell right now, but I'm doing this for you.She dont wanna hear that of course lol

So reading this quote on this book... it really hit my core. Cause it's like, from the ashes (my dad was cremated), he's saying "Learn from my mistakes, I did that so hopefully, you won't have to go through that."

And I'm shook even more because I'm certain when my dad gave me that book, I brushed it off, thinking "here go another wack gift." My dad had a reputation of giving wack gifts. being cheap, or giving things that didn't really make sense for the person receiving it.

I think it's partially his fault that I dont even care that much about gifts lol. I rmbr when I was 8 or 9, he gave me a pair of rusted clippers talking about "you gotta learn how to take care of yourself." NIGGA! You just forgot about xmas, it's ok. jus admit it.

But for this book, that he gave me on my 22nd birthday to come back around, THIS way..the day before Christmas. Iono man. Im tearing up right now. i wish i had appreciated my time with him more. I wish that I just understood the lessons he was tryna teach me when he was alive

AND most importantly... I wish i understood that he was trying. He did a mediocre job in alot of ways but he was trying.

All of this going through my head, and Avery standing off to the side of me. "Daddy, Can I have it? Can I have this book? I promise I'ma take care of it. I promise." I'm grateful that all she has is a universally positive memory of him.

And that she collected enough memories of him that she admired, and respected and loved him. But that she was also too young to be in too much pain when he died.

Oh. My dad, extra as he was, left this note at the end of the journal.

Gah damn. I need a moment.

People aint perfect. People are people.