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Thinking of Father’s Day, and consequently my father, brings a rush of emotions, many, significantly unpleasant. Growing up, far away from understanding myself, I had seen myself father perhaps as how every young child sees his father-a god, a protector,the someone to please, the someone to make sure you didn’t get into any mischief, one who could beat you, one who you must fear.
Now, when I look back, I wonder if that idolised, idealised image of father wasn’t the best to have. It after all requires no effort but puerile ignorance from you. Now that, as the saying goes, I have grown teeth, I have failed miserably to think of my dad like my younger self had. Now, I see myself in capacity enough to judge my dad’s every action towards us. This is unfair, that is irresponsible. I can, in words and numbers, say the many things wrong with a particular decision my dad has taken regarding family. But I know that it is perhaps the newness of this- my being able to assess and judge Father’s wrong actions, for it is the wrong ones I’m concerned about- that gives me the boldness to self righteously condemn his wrong-doings. I cannot however dispute this fact: dad is a dad; I’m not. Then again, dad is ‘the’ dad; I’m not. From my tone, I sound hypocritical then. Condemning myself for my stance, and still continuing in my ways. This is because I aim for a balance.
I want people and indeed myself to read this and see a son- not a stupid child. I understand my father- a kind man with many plans gone sour. I understand his faults already, how it eats at him that certain things didn’t fit into his design for our lives, his frustration at how he can no longer stably give us what he had so desired- security. This is why I say I’m not a child but a grown man. Can I now say that I’m ready to become a father? Of course not. For the courage alone, to leave bachelorhood, settle down and start a family, he deserves my everlasting respect. What I really want is father-son understanding. That understanding that goes deeper than words,than signs, than blood- too much to ask perhaps. What I truly want is that understanding that makes daddy know when not to say certain things and when to say something. When to be all smiles and when to be stern and serious. When to hold tightly and when to loosen that grip. And if someone thinks that by desiring this, I equally desire to control my dad, they cannot be more far from the truth. But I could be accused of wanting perfection, yes I could. So for Father’s Day, I’ll wish for this, as unrealistic, unattainable as it may be. I won’t wish for a completely changed father who would do as I command. Nor would I wish for a dad who would buy me the whole world and protect me, with money, from the world’s strains. And no, not a little of another person’s dad in mine nor a totally perfect dad, no. Just that understanding, that transcends all.
Yes, lets dance and wave the flag or do what it is that is done on Father’s Day. lets celebrate these men- breadwinners- who’d brought other men and women, as they also were brought, into this world. lets celebrate these set of humans whose decisions have ultimately made, for good or bad, the lives of us; sons and daughters. lets not seethe at another wrong doing, but remember the good times. And if there be no one to pinpoint in recent memory, lets go back to our early years and remember that he’s the one first tied our shoe laces, taught us to press our little shirts, rode us on his back every evening even though he was tired, gave us, from time to time, pieces of invaluable advice, even if we don’t remember what they were about, disciplined us to stop that bad habit, the bad thing that could have ruined our lives, protected us. Lets remember that he was there for us when everywhere was dark, that he was there for us when we shouted ‘daddy, daddy, daddy,’ in our little excited voices as he came back from work. Lets not forget, never forget, the special memories, funny or serious, bright or dark, that we spent with him. Because,here is the day of deep reflection on that special person. I, for one, am glad I have a daddy I can celebrate today. For I know, I could not have been this person, if not for his hands- no matter how harsh I thought it was then- that moulded me. His arms that cocooned me from the roughness of life. His mouth that advised me on what and what not to do,say, be. And having said all these, one thing only remains to be said: Thank you daddy! Thank you very much sir! I love you!
Eghoartculture 