When I think of my father I get sad…Why do I remember the pain, the sadness in his eyes. Why do I focus on his suffering, instead of remembering his passions and how happy they made him. Why do I think of how life let him down, and him never complaining about it? Why do I wish he could have had more, given all that he sacrificed. He put away any wants for himself and sacrificed everything including dignity to survive…
When I think of my father I remember his eyes…the knowledge and power behind a fading facade. His life had begun to drain before he began to experience it. His father whom he loved and cherished, passed before his time. His beloved mother with whom he held the highest respect…died at also too soon. He had an underlying ability to feel empathy.
When I think of my father I remember how proud he was…Not about himself, but everything and everyone. He could make his daughter feel guilty because I felt that I did not deserve his credit. His achievements in the kitchen were never thwarted by my lack of enthusiasm…”have some of my stomach (tripe) soup!!!It is delicious…Come on have some, at least try it!”
All I did was complain of the smell and make fun of him, in a half serious way, he loved when I joked on him. He had a wonderful sense of humor! Although his jokes sometimes were lost in translation. Life gets lost in translation, along with love.
When I think of my father I remember how much he loved life… He never got to see any of it, and his desires were so great, his dreams were so large. I pray now he can begin to see. I pray God grants him serenity.