My memories are blurry. Many feelings go through me as I try to remember the past, yours and mine. I feel like I have lived a thousand years, too many memories, some fleeting and some lasting. I wish I had software that would help my brain remember the good memories and isolate the bad ones from our past. They say that every father is the first hero of his son. Father, I am now thirty-eight years old and I know that you were one for me and still are, not in the same way that your ten-year-old grandson thinks of me but in a different way, in my own way.
I had many questions to ask you, but all the questions I wanted answers to and the ones I prepared seem to have disappeared somewhere, lost in the ocean of thought. I wanted to ask you father, when I was born and when you first put me in your arms to hold me, did you look at me the same way? Did you feel the same as I did, when I looked at my son for the first time and gasped for a moment? Did you see your flesh and your blood in me and did you thank the creator who gave me you? Did you worry that something could happen to me and did you wonder what life will teach me and give me? Will the world be fair to me and if not, will I be man enough to survive and fight against all odds? I think you might have a father, because I know I did when I first saw my son.
You gave me everything father, my appearance, my strength, my intelligence and I am sure that something of you must have been in me at every stage of my life. I think the same way too, when I look at my son and see the similarities in almost everything he does. Did you secretly gloat over this fact, as I do now looking at my son? I remember when he was a kid and in my teens, I wanted to ask you questions but was afraid to ask. Lots of questions I wanted answers to, but you were never there. Did it scare you, Father, that I was at an age where my questions would embarrass you and make you feel incomplete, or was it that you felt there was a time and place where I could legitimately ask those questions? You were there for me all along, father, but I never knew it. In my youth, when I sought solace in the company of people I believed gave me answers and the means I used to find answers, through drugs, drink and the opposite sex, there you were, father, you never gave up. . When all your friends, peers, and relatives talked behind or in front of you about what kind of spendthrift your son was, you took it all in as a father, you never gave up on me. Did you think father, that your son was much better than others think and he decided to see only my good points and he went blind for my sake or did you want to yell at me and tell me to stop, since he was hurting you? ? Did you feel the same pain in your heart that I feel now, just wondering if my son will follow the same path as me? I remember he wished me well and he sent me to marry the girl he loved, even though it was my choice and you had no part in it. Was her father scared that his son had someone else to ask his questions or was he secretly glad that his son had become a man?
I have never seen you cry father. Even when your other son, my brother, left us quite abruptly, you cried but not like someone who has lost hope or will. Your cry was heartbreaking but it never showed your weakness. Did you keep your sorrows inside and carry the burden of leaving him for us? Even when your heart was cut open once and your brain again on the operating table, you came out strong and never once cried. Did you not feel the physical pain father, or did you hide it too, not wanting us to feel your pain?
I see you now father, defenseless as a child. He depends on us for his daily tasks and has forgotten to do even his personal tasks. Your memory seems to have left you but you seem happy father. I can see that twinkle in your eyes, that little smile at the corner of your mouth. Are you at peace with the father of the world, as an enlightened soul or as a little child? Do you have your answers father, or do you want to ask me now? Do the doctors say that you have Alzheimer’s disease, a disease that takes away your memory, the past, the joys, the sorrows and life itself? Are you finally happy that you found the answers and did you wish you were in this state of happiness or do you want to cry out for help? Doctors say that this disease has no cure and is irreversible. But I will not give up father; I will never give up on you because you never gave up on me. I’m waiting for the day when you come back and answer my questions. And then do we rewind and go back in time and correct all the mistakes we’ve made? Will you answer all my questions this time, father? Or do you want this state where I can answer all your questions and be your father and protect you from this world to continue? Can I ask you one last question, will you be my ‘DAD’ again, father?