Thinking of Dad

Today is my dad's birthday. He would have been 72 years old. 

Dad passed away three years ago, just two weeks after his birthday. 

Dad was the only child in his family. His mom died when he was teenager. He used to talk about his mom, and described her as a very kind woman. My paternal grandfather was a  businessman and wanted his only son to join the  family business. Though dad had wanted to study engineering he had to obey his father's wishes. His father's controlling manners affected dad deeply.  When I was growing up, dad always said that he would trust me to make my own decisions. I think he understood how important it was to give children freedom to grow, without expecting them to be parents' mirror images.

Dad was a very kindhearted man, who would have given his last penny to someone in need. I can't remember him raising his voice to me even once. He could fix any thing - whether it is electrical, plumbing, auto, carpentry - and I used to watch his projects and learn. While my mom said  "a girl should know how to cook and sew", dad taught me how to change a bulb, fix a leaky faucet and showed me how to build electric circuits for my undergraduate projects. He loved Indian food and used to make them often. He didn't believe in traditional gender roles, and I think his attitude influenced me greatly. 

I know he would have preferred to see me living close to home, but  he gave me his blessings when I decided to leave the country for higher studies. He was very proud of what I accomplished. Perhaps deep down he might have wanted to see his daughters getting married, to see grandchildren, but he never forced me to do anything I didn't want to do. I'm forever grateful for his unconditional love and support. Dad died just 2 1/2 months before my sister's wedding. I wish so much that he had been there to see at least one of his daughters as a bride.

I miss talking to him, hearing him laugh. I miss his hugs. I wish I could have been with him during his last hours. He had come home after a week of hospital stay. We talked on the phone, and had to hang up after a short while, because he was having breathing difficulties. A couple of hours later, he was taken back to the hospital. That night was the worst night in my life. I was on the phone with my sister who was at the hospital, a doctor and a nurse who explained to me about the life support, and the other sister who was out of country  for a workshop. I was hoping that I could be there before it was too late. But it was too late. I feel terribly guilty for not been there when he died. Sometimes I still count hours to see if there had been anyway to be there within a day. Logically I know it's impossible. But sometimes I wonder if I could have done things differently. If only I had gone back after my studies. If only I had brought him here for a visit before he got sick. Whenever I think of that day, my eyes well up and I feel a huge lump burning in my throat. 

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I believe he still watches over me and guide me. Sometimes I talk to him quietly, and ask for his blessings.  I'm forever grateful for his unconditional love, and for the freedom he gave me to choose my own path.

Happy birthday thaththi 💓

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