Sixty

Often times we put those who left our world, on a pedestal. We remember them in a magical way, and sometimes even yearn to believe that certain events which never included them, happened. It's a coping mechanism and it makes sense. What we forget however, is that they were human too. And being human means stumbling, falling, tripping and even crashing as we journey on our chosen paths. 

My dad was human. And that took me a long time to understand. Naturally, he was the main male influence in my life, and after he passed, his memories and what I unfolded about him served as a reminder of what he would have approved of and what he wouldn't have liked. I tried to follow closely by what advice he gave to my sisters when it came to education and career aspirations. However, what I learnt was, even he made mistakes sometimes - be it in giving advice, or judgements about people. And that's not a bad thing at all.. In fact, his imperfections made me admire him even more. It was lifting that veil of him being totally untouchable and incredibly perfect - to a more human man. That took me a very long time to achieve, if I'm honest. It took me a long time because I didn't want to uncover something about him which would make me think differently about him. I didn't want to be upset or angry. My want for getting to know him better however, weighed more and so I followed my gut and started asking questions about him.

The questions I asked weren't just to do with his achievements as a brother, son, father, husband and other roles he played. I asked about the way he solved problems, and how those problems were created. I asked about why they happened, and how involved he was in them. It made me feel like it was completely okay to stumble once in a while, but it also reminded me of the great strength him and my mum both had to steer through the various obstacles that faced them - individually and as a couple. 

My dad had a good heart. A heart that was helpful, loving, affectionate, passionate, intelligent, charming and charitable. Underneath the layers of what he was like to us as a father, and as a husband to my mother, he was a deep thinker and actually, a bit of a free spirit. When his friends tell me stories of what they did and what they talked about, one thing they'd always remember about my dad was that he'd always manage to sit in silence, even if for a few minutes. There are old pictures of him, sitting and looking in another direction, gazing in to something unknown to us. There are very few people who knew what he was really like. It was hard to understand him completely, because his thoughts and ideas stemmed from a whole other universal level. And that made me even more certain that he was extraordinary.

My mum and various others have told me on several occasions said that there are things I do or say or things that happen to me that remind them of my dad. I have been told that sometimes my ideas, thoughts and attitude towards a situation bear similarities with his. Of course, that's one of the highest compliments someone can pay me - for they can see habits he had, in me. 

As I grow older, I feel like the picture I have of him is becoming more and more succinct. I can almost see his thought processes and what he thought about life, love, work and travel. I feel more connected - and that's been a gift I cherish so deeply. He is now, no longer just a tall and protective magician I once thought he was. 

Today would have marked his 60th birthday. Although I don't care much for birthdays, I feel that the big six-O is a big deal. I recall some of the plans he jokingly made for his future with my mum - they included riding on a Harley, with my mum at the back - both in leather jackets, travelling the world together. Now of course the Harley was probably more a classy Jaguar, and the leather jacket for him, a cigar. His plans were simple - they weren't extravagant or materialistic. He wasn't that type of person. He definitely enjoyed the finer things in life - but he was never more happier than in his homely pyjamas, unshaven, lounging on a sofa, watching some long philosophical movie, and chomping his way through various (chicken) snacks. 

A few days before he passed, I remember he stayed up till very late in my sister's room, going through houses upon houses in the UK on her computer. Naturally, he had known that his time was coming to an end, and he was trying to secure something for us - due to the urgency yet calmness on his face. He told me that he may be buying a house for all of us in the UK - and so he was gauging price ranges and area information. I didn't understand any of that. They seemed like such big, important plans. Plans that a man who has his life together, would make. He used words like "mortgage" and "finances" and really that's where my interest ended. I gave him a hug good night, and told him I'd be going to bed. It was comforting knowing that beyond the wall right next to my bed, my protector was there to chase the demons away. And just like that, I fell in to a deep and warm slumber. 

Being a parent, I realise - is difficult. Being a father is difficult because you're always being pulled in all directions - paying careful attention that you give time to your children, as well as their lives and the various connections they're making. I can only imagine my dad's reaction to my wanting to settle down - I think he'd have felt old. He'd probably sit down to interrogate Mr Sanaa to no end. Trying to be scary, but friendly at the same time. Gauging Mr Sanaa's expressions, intelligence and personality and wondering whether he could bring me the happiness, appreciation and stability I needed. Although I think Mr Sanaa would pass all stages of interrogation.. As I would have prepared him well! 

In loving and warm memory of the most charismatic, inspiring and grounded man I have the pleasure of calling my father. 

Happy 60th old man. Snigger.