Reading another blogger’s account of losing her dad had me bawling like a baby in my shower. Memories of peeking at you from behind when you sat shaving on our red and white patterned plywood dresser mirror and stool and rushing to cover your eyes and ask you “Yaaru sollu?” is still fresh in my mind. Sitting on the water tank in our home in Alwar Thirunagar at 9:00 PM at night waiting to hear the sound of your motorbike from Gandhi street and wondering if you caught the train on time from Gummidipoondi makes me realize how much you toiled so we could have a good life. Memories of you surround me at every turn Appa. Each time I struggle with constipation, I remember how much you struggled with all the medication you took to keep you going. I see you walking with us as we inspected the first home we saw and liked. I remember the early morning trips from the railway station to home sitting behind you on the bike and having our father daughter moments. I remember the day you and amma reached Bangalore to tell me I was meeting someone yet again that weekend. I listened as you described the young man I was to marry later on. I feel a swell of pride when I think of my childhood and don’t remember anything that I wanted so much that I couldn’t have it. I remember you lying tired being back from work and me pressing your tired soles so you could go to sleep. I remember the entire family huddled in the bedroom past 8:00 PM because you went to bed early. All of us sitting around and chatting like happy families do.
I love you Appa and I am thankful for having had a father I could respect and look up to.
Happy Father’s Day!