While many celebrate today with their fathers, like many others I'm left to reflect on my dad's life and my relationship with him. I can not believe it's been almost 15 years since he died. Yet I also can believe it. A couple of years ago, I was once seated on a plane next to a woman whose father had just died. For reasons that I still don't fully appreciate -- other the desire to ease her pain, make her feel that she wasn't alone and be kind to her -- I wrote her a message about how I felt when my dad died. Here's an excerpt:
"The day after my dad died, I woke up with this unbelievably heavy feeling of realizing that I had spent my entire life with my dad as a part of it and this was the first day of my life without him. I couldn't really bear the thought. But one day became two days which became three days and eventually a week, a month, a year and now it's been over 13 years. I won't lie. It wasn't easy. But it did happen. Time really does heal all wounds. Or at least make them more bearable. I still miss my dad. But I also realize life goes on as well.
My wife never met my dad but I have a video of an interview with my dad. She noticed that when both he and I are thinking, we brush back our hair with our hands in exactly the same way. Others have noticed how I look like him or have his sense of humor. My dad used to start our phone calls with the exact same line every time. Sometimes when I answer the phone even today, I half expect to hear that line. So what I've realized is that my dad does live on, within me, through me, and within my memories and dreams."
What do I remember about my dad? I remember that he was an incredibly accomplished man in both academics and politics. That he met US Presidents, European royalty, the Pope and Mao Zedong. Born in a Bangladeshi village that still requires rickshaws to reach, he would fly on every kind of jet (except the Concorde -- one of his regrets), meet Yuri Gagarin and go on a special tour of the Space Shuttle Enterprise. He would reminisce about the land given to our family by the Mughal Emperor Jahangir. He was a controversial man and, perhaps like all controversial men, many people thought they knew him or his motives without ever meeting him or speaking with him.
Yet during the last conversation that I had with him, he told me he would trade all of his accomplishments for a better relationship with me. That relationships are the only things that matter in life. And how he regretted not having more people in his life that understood him and cared for him. How he regretted treating some people badly. He struggled to embrace his kindness and compassion -- often viewing them as weakness that others could exploit for their advantage.
Land, titles, accomplishments, awards, books, the internet...all of it disappears. None of it matters. What I remember and cherish about my dad are his acts of kindness toward me. And he doesn't live on through me because of my same tendencies to travel the globe or the way I brush back my hair. He lives on through me through my kindness and compassion. And my struggle to embrace them.
Happy Father's Day, Abba. I miss you. I hope you are practicing random acts of kindness.
"The day after my dad died, I woke up with this unbelievably heavy feeling of realizing that I had spent my entire life with my dad as a part of it and this was the first day of my life without him. I couldn't really bear the thought. But one day became two days which became three days and eventually a week, a month, a year and now it's been over 13 years. I won't lie. It wasn't easy. But it did happen. Time really does heal all wounds. Or at least make them more bearable. I still miss my dad. But I also realize life goes on as well.
My wife never met my dad but I have a video of an interview with my dad. She noticed that when both he and I are thinking, we brush back our hair with our hands in exactly the same way. Others have noticed how I look like him or have his sense of humor. My dad used to start our phone calls with the exact same line every time. Sometimes when I answer the phone even today, I half expect to hear that line. So what I've realized is that my dad does live on, within me, through me, and within my memories and dreams."
What do I remember about my dad? I remember that he was an incredibly accomplished man in both academics and politics. That he met US Presidents, European royalty, the Pope and Mao Zedong. Born in a Bangladeshi village that still requires rickshaws to reach, he would fly on every kind of jet (except the Concorde -- one of his regrets), meet Yuri Gagarin and go on a special tour of the Space Shuttle Enterprise. He would reminisce about the land given to our family by the Mughal Emperor Jahangir. He was a controversial man and, perhaps like all controversial men, many people thought they knew him or his motives without ever meeting him or speaking with him.
Yet during the last conversation that I had with him, he told me he would trade all of his accomplishments for a better relationship with me. That relationships are the only things that matter in life. And how he regretted not having more people in his life that understood him and cared for him. How he regretted treating some people badly. He struggled to embrace his kindness and compassion -- often viewing them as weakness that others could exploit for their advantage.
Land, titles, accomplishments, awards, books, the internet...all of it disappears. None of it matters. What I remember and cherish about my dad are his acts of kindness toward me. And he doesn't live on through me because of my same tendencies to travel the globe or the way I brush back my hair. He lives on through me through my kindness and compassion. And my struggle to embrace them.
Happy Father's Day, Abba. I miss you. I hope you are practicing random acts of kindness.
