To my father who art on earth – Happy Father’s Day!June 18, 2016
And I love him … here’s why
Lets face it, with the exception of a few off beat cases, with every daughter, daddy is always “hero # 1. In my case, my dad scored first in a number of categories. He turned out to be the–
The first man who loved me unconditionally, whether I was good, naughty, or moody
The first man who made me feel safe; many of the dangers I noticed only after I’d been led past them. All I remember is feeling secure as my little fingers clung to his big thumb
The first man to provide for me – there was always a roof over my head and food on the table.
The first man to bring me gifts – on my birthday, Christmas, and from wherever he was returning from. I cannot remember a single instance when he came back without something
The first man to hold my hand and helped me become the woman I am today.
And of course, the first over all firsts – he is the only man that I will ever call ‘daddy’.
MY DAD, A MAN TO BE PROUD OF!
This Father’s Day, I remember with a tug in my heart and a warm glow of memory, my annual summer vacations, to my family’s favourite holiday destination in the Nilgris. As soon as our exams got over, we’d be out the door. Dad would take us shopping for our trip. We’d pick up comics, novels, snacks, games, and other little things that would dot our holiday landscape with indelible memories. I can never forget the sleepless nights before we actually set out, when I’d lie awake with a tingly feeling thinking how lovely life could be.
As soon as we reached the homestay, we’d crowd around dad’s suitcase as in it lay little treasures for each one of us. We’d go sightseeing, cook meals together, visit friends, go trekking, sleep in tents under the stars, and we even learned stitching together. When we were younger, my dad would allow us to make little ponytails on his head. What I loved most about this vacation is for once we got one-on-one time with him and my mother because back home life used to be crowded with their work, our homework and other busy, not-so-enjoyable stuff.
One of the special memories from my treasure chest was dad trying to teach me the guitar. When he saw that I was interested in learning, he bought me a guitar and taught me the seven chords he knew, a few strumming styles, and his favourite songs. I was just nine, so I made plenty of mistakes; there were no shouts, but he just lovingly encouraged me. He even bought my sister and me our first keyboard and a few years later, a saxophone. I faithfully practiced all the instruments daily but after three years, I had to bid adieu to the saxophone because I just didn’t have the lung power to blow the sax. I loved singing too much, so I did not want to blunt my vocal chords with too much blowing.
I am glad I sat to write this blog. You may know what I am talking about when I say that every dawn brings with it a serving plate full of responsibilities and tasks; there is not too much time to pause and look back. You have to admit that in the rearview mirror of a car, scenic beauty is far more appreciable. That’s what’s happening in my heart as my words are tumbling out through my fingertips. Appreciation is spilling over the walls of my heart as I playback my dad album. He is the man who encouraged me to chase my dreams. He was always so generous and thoughtful. When he returned from trips, we gathered for the bag opening ceremony and he would distribute the puzzles, clothes, toys, dolls and books he bought from his travels.
It was not only because of all that he gave me that I love my dad. I always looked closely at the kind of person he is – meticulous, straightforward, organized – I had to make an appointment to see him at times because of his busy schedule. Did I forget to mention that He was and still is a pastor? Sorry, to me he was a daddy – another thing to be secretly thrilled about – the fact that while others reverently called him “Pastor”, I could just love and relate to him as my father. Because of him, we were treated like the royal family. Being a pastor’s daughter is a story in itself but I will leave that for another place and time. Many people often remark that I am just like my dad and for me to be likened to him is a huge compliment in itself.
When I was younger, my dad was a little reserved when it came to expressing himself. I knew he loved me tons but at times he was too strict and unbending. I too could and can be very stubborn. In those days, my mom would end up being the mediator between us. After I married, he mellowed down quite a bit and now I tease him, that if I had known that marriage would make him so soft and sentimental toward us his children, then I would have got married long ago.
O Papa, I want to speak out my heart to you today. I may not remember each and everything you have done for me. But when an event or a photograph strikes the chord of memory, the eyes grow misty. I know I have had an extraordinary childhood; I know you did not have much and that being a pastor is not easy, but even within those limitations you gave us so much, you fulfilled so many of our heart’s desires. Thank you for encouraging me to chase my dreams. A large part of who I am today, is because of you, I know I owe it to you. I am not being senti, I am simply telling the truth. You gave me stability and courage, joy and confidence, you are irreplaceable in my life. I love you and you will always be the only person I ever call ‘papa.’
A special song dedicated to my dad and all the other dads out there