Sunday, June 21, 2015

A tribute to my father


From a continent far away, I see your feeble smile. As  you sit solemnly in your armchair, with your memory thorn into pieces, I know one of those pieces must have me and you hang on to it.

Today is Father’s Day, a tribute to fatherhood, a title I will never bear. Yet I do appreciate what it means for you.

When you took me to school for the first time there was a drawing in our book which fascinated me. ‘A family, the unit of society.’ or so the title said. A father still wearing his office suit, reading his newspaper in an armchair, smiling and puffing his pipe. A daughter and a son playing on the carpet, smiling. A mother making the dinner table, smiling. A grandma in her rocking chair, knitting and smiling. A cat next to a fireplace, having a nap.

This was the picture in my mind that laid out the grand plan for my life. Yet the life had its own agenda. The children were drifted to different parts of the world. We never had a grandpa or grandma around us, regrettably I have never owned a cat.

However I don’t think we have ever stopped being a family. On the dusty shelves of our minds we still cherish the days we spent together. That family picture is somehow engraved in our minds albeit in different forms, happy moments stitched one another. This is of course an enormous privilege in this strange random world.

I could never remember I thanked you enough. For taking me to that soccer game when I was six. For making a perfect paper kite in that freezing Spring day. For sharing every fun occasion with your children, taking us to picnics, to summer holidays, telling us funny stories making me giggle for days. For not taking life too seriously. For not lecturing us. For letting me smoke sitting next to you. For being momentarily upset but not angry even when I crushed your car bought with your life savings. For saving me from trouble whenever I needed you, especially that horrible day when a bomb exploded killing one during a protest and the Army circled our Uni’s dormitory. For letting us read anything, study anything we want. For not brainwashing us with bullshit. For letting us have inquisitive minds. For letting me be me. Thank you my good man.  I don’t think I could ever be half of the man you were. I love you Dad.