Out of all the men in the world, daughters always say “Fathers are the sweetest”. When I think of my childhood, the first memory I cherish till date is as to how my dad persuaded me to be strong. He wanted me to be a very strong girl.
So when I was four-year-old, I broke a bone in my thumb finger and it gave me a lot of trouble. The doctors said that there was some minor distortion internally and it must get operated to get better. Upon hearing this, I reckon my daddy must have lost all his good senses.
Everyone knows how childish men suddenly become after they become fathers to daughters; my father very well epitomized this. It was hard for him to decide what to do. To let his little daughter know the smell of medicines and the pain of toxins, Nah... One day when I went to him complaining about the pain in the thumb finger, he gently made me sit on his lap before saying “Sweetheart, the more you pay attention to the pain, the stronger it would become. So stop thinking about it and one day it will leave you.”
Turns out he was right. Well, he always is.
My mother is also a true incarnation of love; for me, she is the most lovable person ever. When I asked my daddy whom he loved more, me or mummy, he immediately replied “He loved me more.” and I can vouch that most fathers are like that.
I grew up admiring every aspect of my daddy. He is an energy ball; no matter what happened, I never saw his confidence levels drop even an inch. Now that two decades have passed by, I realise that the love these fathers have for daughters is far greater than what we think. As he walks, sleeps, or even rests, my father’s mind and thoughts always orbit around his two daughters. Of course at the envy of my mother...
Even today, when he wakes up late at night, he visits me and my little sister as we sleep. He runs his warm hands over our foreheads and checks the fans and the blankets before standing at a corner glaring at both his daughters. Two of his most worthy possessions before feeling content that he is able to provide us with the comfort of a sound sleep. For a fifty-year-old father of two daughters, that is what it means to be a man and that is what makes them a hero. A hero he truly is! But these fathers aren’t as strong and content as they seem to be. They too have problems, unlike us; they have real-serious concerns. So let’s not trouble them on little things.
As we grow, we slowly develop differences with our fathers. We start complaining that he checks on us, that he’s hesitant to give us pocket money for our expenses, that he is a disinterested person and that he doesn’t really understand us. Each time these thoughts strike you, you should know that you are wrong. They understand us to the core. It’s their unflinching love for us that sometimes make their actions put us to huge misconceptions. Do not develop hatred for your fathers just because you think they are objecting to a few of your pleasures. They’ve walked on the planet for half of their lives, they know how things work better than us.
Now that they are growing old day-by-day, year-by-year they need their daughters the most. When else can we reward our fathers better than now and how better can we say thank you to the sacrifices they’ve made for us every single day than by taking care of them.
If you live with your father right in the same house, then remove your headphones off your ears, switch the apps off your eyes and go sit next to him. Pat him on his shoulder and talk to him about your day’s work. Ask him if he’s taking his medicines sincerely and give him glasses of water at regular intervals, just like how he gave to you when you were a child.
Become your father’s mother, my friend, for tomorrow when his little girl goes her way away from him, to lead her own family, it’ll be the poor old father who would feel the greatest void in every breath of his life, more than anyone else.