We talk about what is most precious of all; we talk about what we lose and can never retrieve. We talk about it all the time and everyone has different ideology. I think parents are the most precious gift of God. Once they are gone, they are gone. There is no replacement. There is no love that can alter their unconditional affection. There is no one who can supply the same length of protection as they did. There is just no one like them.
I remember growing up fighting with my parents all the time. I had concomitant conflicts with them every day. We never settled on the same. I always complained not having been loved by them. What I was missing was that it was their love, which they were showering by not allowing me to pursue my desires which were not beneficial for my future. I never saw it. I never looked at things the way they did. With insight, with intuition.
My parents were always protective of me just like every other parent. They were there on every step of my life. When I was growing up, they were there to guide me through the tough times. My mother mainly focused on the house but my father specially stood by my side in all the endeavors. I was an artist, and I exhibited several shows. My dad would leave all his work just to be with me when I was preparing my work, helping me with framing, presentation, wrapping etc. He would sit with me all night cleaning the paintings and tiding the bits and all. He was initially against my will of becoming an artist but when he saw my enthusiasm, he knew it was something I could successfully do. He gave me all the support I needed. He left his work to be with me when I wandered in markets to purchase goods and tools for my art work. His days went by spending afternoons in the summer’s scorching heat with me to buy wood and helping me with selection, going to clients’ houses to fix my art pieces when I could have hired a professional. But he delivered himself to me to be at assistance just because he knew what I wanted and he knew other would not be able to understand.
Then I wanted to teach, and he was there to assist me with children. Helping me doing small favours, which were big for me. He talked to children when I was losing my mind just to give me a vent of relief. He helped me buying books which helped me in gaining my knowledge. He made exuberant jokes to cheer me up.
I loved cooking and baking, and he was the only one paying full attention to my produce giving me his feedback and thoroughly enjoying the food in order to give me a pump of excitement of triumph.
He was receptive. He took my advice on the work he did in home or out. I would drill holes in the wall when he wanted to install something on. He would drive me crazy to be more precise than him in measurements. He would give me preference to choose objects from market. He would give me freedom of transforming the house the way I wanted aesthetically. He made me independent.
Then I got married, and there he was supporting me with my decision. He never left me even when I was married and a grown woman. He was always there prescribing his insight to my efforts. I also needed him at every step. I needed him to believe in me and he did. He called me to ask every day how my work was coming along and if there was something he could do. Helping me with my work was his main priority. He would envisage my work more lucidly than anyone ever could do. He was always reverent.
Then I decided to jump into designing, and there he was with his substantial presence by my side rhetorically commenting on my designs with transcendence to enable me to understand my work with others vantage point. He would spread the word about my profession and proudly tell people about my achievements. He became my client in order to teach me how to accept that customer is the boss.
When I went through rough financial patch, he was there to support me unconditionally with finances with no refund. He made me sure that I was not alone at any point of my life. He made me what I am today. He believed in me when no one did. He called me brilliant when the world labeled me crazy. He held me tight when I struggled with my obsessive compulsive disorder. He pulled me back with his assurance of me being strong. He taught me to be a leader.
And now when he is gone, I feel a gap in my life which can never be filled with anyone’s love. I go to his grave and ask him to give me a sign that he is there, and the wind tells me that he is with me even that he sleeps under tons of sand. Now I have my mother as his reminder. And I fear that one day she would be gone too and world will never be the same.
You're right, we don't realise fully until we lose one. My father died a few years ago and I don't think I understood quite what an amazing guy he was. The pain gets easier but the gap is still there.
Very nicely written.
Thank you Stacey. I am glad it served it purpose.
Wow. What a powerful and moving post. Thank you so much for sharing this. It definitely makes me more reflective about my own parents. I am going to use this post as a motivator to do a journaling entry–and get in touch with each of my parents–just that one extra time than normal so I can tell them how much I appreciate them.