The day my dad passed away, I was left with the realisation that the one person who had loved me most had left me for good. As I cleared his things, I’d find little trinkets of notes and gifts I had given him, tucked somewhere in the mass amount of files and diaries dating back to his days as a politician. I had just been born then and it would seem I had inherited his hoarding habit.
I braved myself as I realised here was a man who had never told me how much he loved me just like most Indian dads holding on to homemade gifts from a twelve year old kid. And I was the kid who had to learn how to hug and say I love you to friends only after he passed on.
Not a day goes by without me wishing he was still around. I finally stopped wishing that I would hear the impatient horn of his car so that one of us will open the doors for him. Not a day went by without us fighting over same trivial thing because we were probably the world’s most stubborn people. Unless for that one last year. But I’d be in denial if I told you; life wasn’t easier in some ways without him.
For one, I wouldn’t be who I am if he hadn’t gone. The bravery, confidence, independent streak would not have been possible if he had been around to look after me. Dad used to take care of nearly everything for us; I had never even renewed my car road tax by myself. Somehow I think he knew his time was up as weeks before, he handed me the details and chased my to the post office to get them renewed.
Today I change tires, terrorise irritating bankers, tell of people (who deserved to be), run my finances and all legal requirements and even travel the globe alone. If dad had been around, world war 3 would have taken place on the mere mention of travelling without him!
Without him, I’d become self reliant. Without him, I was free to explore so many possibilities.
Without him, I had no hero to look after me.
A lost is a lost no matter how many years pass. I would trade all these to be able to fight with my dad again. At least I’d hear his voice again right?
The last 7 years haven’t been easy. You can wait in line with the rest of us (billions or so people) in wishing life was easy. When I look back at every single happiness, betrayal and sadness, I know there’s nothing I regret, nothing I want to change or nothing I wish I could change except for my dad’s loss.
What I do know is, he’s always around looking out for me. He knows just what to send over my way whenever I need help. It’s just his method is a bit quirky. I’d see trouble blinding me from miles away before I finally realise the message behind everything.
Dad got back into his protective saddle a few days shy of his 64th birthday slamming and closing doors all around me. It wasn’t until today, that I realised he had set all the plans up for the clock to move in motion. Yesterday dad turned 65.
Today I finally cried for the father I lost 7 years ago.
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