It is the one day (apart from his birthday) when your dad has the right to terrorize all his loved ones with sky high demands. It is also the one day when mothers have to be extra nice to their other halves, because men do not get other holidays when they can walk around the kitchen in underwear celebrating the milestones of fatherhood/husband-hood. It’s a real snapper, this fathers day thing.
Personally, I like fathers day because it reminds me just how much my father sacrifices each day to see me happy and in good health. When I was an undergraduate student, fathers day was a painful reminder that I needed to stop squandering my father’s hard earned cash on parties and alcohol. Eventually I did quit, but that’s another day’s discussion.
Though Fathers Day is an international sensation with nothing but wisps of joy in the air, sometimes it swoops in and shoves itself down our throats leaving a quinine aftertaste. I’ll tell you why.
A few months ago, my father began calling me often. You see, this is strange behavior if you consider that my dad is quite the introvert. He is the kind of guy who calls once a fortnight to check up on how I’m doing. And I get it because I am almost twenty five now. I don’t need that much goading anymore.
Anyway, the calling began and the intervals between calls got shorter. During our conversations, he talked a great deal about the importance of family, and how we all needed to meet to discuss the way forward with regard to family investment projects. The charisma in his voice mirrored a focused, revolutionary man. Probably the man my mother fell in love with all those decades ago. Halfway through those decades ago, however, my parents disagreed on pretty important stuff (I bet) and filed for divorce.
It has now been five years since our family met together in one sitting. It has also been more than seven years since some members of this same family spoke. I am worried therefore, if this same family will be able to agree on ‘investment projects’, now that everyone is hoping for a piece in the gigantic pie we want to bake.
That said, the numerous telephone conversations between my father and I recently culminated in a meeting. My father and mother met after all those years and that was pretty cool. They were mature about it and even shared a mobile phone when they called me to announce this unbelievable event. I have to admit I am very proud of them.
Later, my mother returned to the city she now lives in and called to let me know she had arrived safely. In addition, she gave me a few highlights on the “meeting” (date) she had with dad. The next few minutes of our telephone call froze me to the core. My father told her he went to the doctor after a growth began emerging from his cheek and they told him he’s got lymphoma. I didn’t know how to respond. I still don’t know what to think. Fathers Day is suddenly tragic for me. He is the best father ever, even though he’s got his faults. I hope he makes it out of this. I hope we all make it out of this.