6/17/2007

For My Father

As I was reminding my father’s namesake to be sure and call his father this morning, I told him “I miss my Dad.” He said “I know.” I wonder how he knows, because we don’t talk about my father much. It must be that he himself misses his grandfather and understands the sentiment on a personal level. My father was a truly special man, smart and kind, poetic and political, wise and passionate, he was a man so generous of the heart, he was father to many beyond his offspring; he was the man to see when in trouble! He cried when I told him I wanted to get married when I was 18, telling me not to leave his house, to give him a chance “to do things” for me, he said. When I showed up at his doorstep 20 years later with 2 suitcases and 3 boxes, he let me in, befriended me, and actually said: “You know, God wanted these turns of events in our lives to coincide—I didn’t know how to handle your mother’s passing and her absence from the house, and I’m so glad God sent you to be with me.” Pretty good for an Iranian father of his generation, wouldn’t you say? My father’s business was enlightenment and encouragement, not blame and degredation. A poet himself, he loved poetry. Of course he liked Hafez and Saadi, like all Iranians do, but he loved Eraghi, Obeid Zakani, and Vahshi Bafghi. The man knew so much poetry and so many stories and anecdotes by heart, it was amazing being in a conversation with him—you never left the room the same person as you had come in, for you had learned a thing or two in the time you had spent with him. In a few days, it will be three years since he passed away. On this Father’s Day, I remember him with love and reverence, missing him more than I can say. I go to call the other father figure in my life to wish him a happy Father’s Day.

10 comments:

خانم شین said...

متن خیلی قشنگ و با احساسی بود. با اینکه اینجا روز پدر نیست با احساستون شریک شدم. خدا پدرتون رو رحمت کنه

Nazy said...

Thank you my wonderful Shin. I hope it didn't depress you on your birthday! My father would not want anyone in the world sad for anything, let alone his memory! Be good my friend.

SERENDIP said...

He sounds a lot like my father...I miss my dad terribly too, though he's been gone for over 2 decades now. Thank you for sharing your feelings about this remarkable man. Sadly, Men like our dads are a dying breed.

Nazy said...

Ah, those fathers, Serendip! They somehow spoiled our standards for what a good man, a good husband, a good partner, and a good father should be! Some of the men I have met in my life could not hold a candle to the man that my father was, and this comparison became irksome for them and for me, for different reasons! I had the fantastic fortune of spending time with my father when I was an experienced adult. Past the little girls' awe with their fathers, my relationship with him was truly one of equals and friends, teaching me things I didn't know before. Though in the last few years of his life, he was increasingly disabled and in need of physical assistance, that beautiful sharp mind continued ticking and giving away warmth. The last few months of his life, he couldn't talk anymore, and that is when I saw in his eyes that he had no wish to continue living if he couldn't communicate his thoughts and tell his stories. I hope this doesn't make you sad, because there was nothing sad about the man and his life--pure joy and happiness all the time, that's how and who he was. God bless your father's soul. What do you know? At this very moment, together they might all be having some fascinating discussions up in heaven over a cup of tea! Be good Serendip.

serendip said...

Nazy jan: I couldn't have said it better myself. They raised the bar so high for us in choosing a mate and we either had to lower our standards or compromise...My dad was a philanthropist, a prankster, and a humanitarian before it was ever fashinonable. He was a builder and doer...He cried when his children had a slight cold or fever...I bet your dad and my dad are discussing how much fun they had while here on earth.

Assal said...

Through the stories that are told about special moments you've shared and other childhood memories, or lines of his poetry that are repeated for others, his love, his wisdom, his beauty; will live forever.

nimshab said...

Gosh it was my grand father's anniversary past Sunday, one of the reasons I was not in a mood to write. He left when I was in Canada, just like my other grandpa who left when I was in Isfahan. And I miss both of them, miss them for the last kisses and hugs and recited memories of myself they used to share with every one. I feel I know what you mean. And I hope when I would go some one would say all the good thing you said about your father about me, at least a portion of that. I hope to leave a fondly memorable footsteps on this planet.

Nazy said...

Nimeh Shab Jan: Khoda pedar bozorg hato biyamorzeh. Losing those we love when we are so far away is really a hard thing.

Of course you are leaving a lasting mark on this world Shab Jan! Though I would love for people to talk good words ABOUT me when I'm not around, I would rather people talk good and bad words TO me when I'm alive and it actually makes a difference! Be good azize dealm.

bijan said...

I'm sorry. God bless his soul (khoda beyamorzeshoon). You're so lucky to have such a great man in your life and (vice versa,)I'm sure he felt the same & blesses to have a such a doughter.

Nazy said...

Salam Bijan Jan.

I can't help but be delighted to see that this, one of my favorite posts, was read again today. Thank you for your kind words. I think one of the reasons we really miss our parents is that our parents are our "two-member-fan-club" in life, loving us unconditionally. Their passing means that we would have to work harder to gain acceptance and love in the world. I hope your parents are alive and well, and that God looks over their health and gives them a long life. Thanks again.