Its been a year since I have lost him. But it still does not feel that I have lost him. He still comes in my dreams. I still feel that he is with me. I haven’t called papa in a long time. Last year he just passed away. Just like that. How could a perfectly healthy man pass away from a heartstroke? Nobody has answers.
He was a great dad. True, he had all the problems that most people have. True he was not the perfect of person. But somehow he was there. We never had those Father-son talk. Never. But somehow he was there for me and my brother. I wasn’t a great son either. We were kind of normal people. No big talks, no setting example for each other. He was proud of me. I could tell that. Nobody has studied so much in his family. He being a school dropout himself.
But he knew the value of education and try as much as he can to give us the best. He wouldn’t brag about it. But selflessly he would give. Even if it meant cutting into his happiness. I remember him giving him birthday present. He didn’t have a birthday, not one that he remembered. It was just the day he got retired at age 60. He was so happy to get from his son. No Thank you, no hugs, no big dialogues. Just the eyes could tell all and I could see he was proud and happy. True we had fights. Lots of them. But we forgot it all.
He was sort of a person who gives and never expects anything in return. I still remember him trying to put all those extra bedsheets over me during winters. I remember him how everytime he would remind me to cross the road carefully, even though I was 25. I remember him beating my brother for not studing but checking if he had the bedsheet at nights. I remember carrying me around just because i insisted to be carried at the age of 10. I remember him making my dress ready for school, so that i wouldn’t be late for school. I remember him to be just there. Just there for me, for my brother, for mom. For everybody.
A week before he died, I brought him shirt and trousers cloth. The raymond quality, the one he always thought were the best. He gave sweets to everyone in the building and celebrated his birthday. Just like that. He had never done that. He had given a party on my birthday many times. But we never celebrated his birthday. The last day he just went to everybody and said hello to them.
I feel he is still there. In spirits peraphs. I just think he will close the shop in the evening and come home to dinner.
But he will not. Never. But his memories sure will.