Papa. Today, I paused long and hard after writing that four letter word. I reflected. Rewind to Father's Day 2011, I woke up that morning my heart filled with gratitude like never before. To be honest, and to just say it bluntly, no sugar coating, I was just happy that day that you were alive. Unpleasant memories are the last thing one wants to remember. Naturally, the more you try to push these thoughts aside, the more stubborn these beasts get at resurfacing.
Nov 26th, 2010 was unambiguously the worst day of my life. Just like every year, I had taken the 17 hour flight to India, one day before your birthday. Around midnight, I reached home, rang the bell and waited with my full blown smile to greet you all. Mummy opened the door. Her face cold & pale as a white stone, no expression. Within seconds, I felt my jaw muscles stiffen. The only word I could manage to mouth - "What?" and she burst into tears in my arms. Tania, mom and I lay on the bed that night in distraught silence; counting hours, minutes, seconds. Every second felt like an hour, every hour like a year. We spoke not a word to each other that night. We had none.
Then dawned the morning of 26th, your birthday. First one standing in line as the clock struck visiting hours, I pulled myself strong and entered the ICU. Papa, I will never forget that moment when I saw you that day. Your body lying listless on the hospital bed, face unshaven for days, arms swollen, uncountable tubes & pipes running through the nose, mouth, throat, stomach, veins. Your chest heaving in synch with the scary looking loud ventilator. I know it's the last thing one wants, that no parent wants to live long enough to see his children die. But in that moment, that dying moment I wished and prayed and a thousand other emotions in a second to swap places with you. I stood there and muttered under my breath - "I love you Papa. Happy Birthday" as tears wet my cheeks.
The good news is we survived. Recovery was long and difficult and painful but we made it. I say 'we' because I think it was a cumulative flow of positivity and hope from all the people whose lives you have touched and who love you that brought you back. Even the doctors agreed this was nothing short of a miracle. In a few months from now, you will hit the 5 year cancer free milestone. I look at you everyday and see how hard you fought, how strong you were in the face of adversity, how many times you lost, how many times you were knocked down but didn't surrender. There is more to learn from you than I can possibly try to in a lifetime. And there is more I feel for you than any number of words from the dictionary can ever tell. I admire you and your tenacity and I want some day I can be half of what you are. Almost every prudent thing I have done thus far in life (though there are very few), I owe them to you and you alone. On this father's day, I just want to give you a public shout out - "My Daddy Strongest". Happy Father's Day Papa. Live long & strong!
Nov 26th, 2010 was unambiguously the worst day of my life. Just like every year, I had taken the 17 hour flight to India, one day before your birthday. Around midnight, I reached home, rang the bell and waited with my full blown smile to greet you all. Mummy opened the door. Her face cold & pale as a white stone, no expression. Within seconds, I felt my jaw muscles stiffen. The only word I could manage to mouth - "What?" and she burst into tears in my arms. Tania, mom and I lay on the bed that night in distraught silence; counting hours, minutes, seconds. Every second felt like an hour, every hour like a year. We spoke not a word to each other that night. We had none.
Then dawned the morning of 26th, your birthday. First one standing in line as the clock struck visiting hours, I pulled myself strong and entered the ICU. Papa, I will never forget that moment when I saw you that day. Your body lying listless on the hospital bed, face unshaven for days, arms swollen, uncountable tubes & pipes running through the nose, mouth, throat, stomach, veins. Your chest heaving in synch with the scary looking loud ventilator. I know it's the last thing one wants, that no parent wants to live long enough to see his children die. But in that moment, that dying moment I wished and prayed and a thousand other emotions in a second to swap places with you. I stood there and muttered under my breath - "I love you Papa. Happy Birthday" as tears wet my cheeks.
The good news is we survived. Recovery was long and difficult and painful but we made it. I say 'we' because I think it was a cumulative flow of positivity and hope from all the people whose lives you have touched and who love you that brought you back. Even the doctors agreed this was nothing short of a miracle. In a few months from now, you will hit the 5 year cancer free milestone. I look at you everyday and see how hard you fought, how strong you were in the face of adversity, how many times you lost, how many times you were knocked down but didn't surrender. There is more to learn from you than I can possibly try to in a lifetime. And there is more I feel for you than any number of words from the dictionary can ever tell. I admire you and your tenacity and I want some day I can be half of what you are. Almost every prudent thing I have done thus far in life (though there are very few), I owe them to you and you alone. On this father's day, I just want to give you a public shout out - "My Daddy Strongest". Happy Father's Day Papa. Live long & strong!
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