REMEMBERING MY FATHER...!

By M H Ahssan

My dad was a very special man. Most people think that about their parents, so I'm not saying anything special here. However, it's the things that made my dad an individual that differentiate him from everyone else.

My father was a strong, yet quiet man who was the epitome of the old saying that actions speak louder then words. With his infectious, crooked, toothy grin, he had people smiling everywhere he went. He had an inherent love of people and treated everyone he met with respect. The crow's feet on his face drew attention to his sparkling pale, blue eys that drew you in. He was not a very large man, but his his tough, calloused hands showed how hard he worked every day. His work kept him away from home six days a week, but he always brought little trinkets home for my sisters and I to show that he always thought about us. Though we didn't see as much of him as we would have liked, he was dedicated to family time when he was with us.

He usually wore white clothes and a sweater. Not to outdo himself, he also always wore soft chappals. His tie always had a little flare that called attention to itself as if to say "look at me."

My father always slicked back his hair, which accented his receeding hairline. The contrast between his thinly peppered hair and his weathered forehead was striking.

His scent (every friday) was one of contrast also. That coupled with the smell of cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes, his scent was a signature I will never forget.

I will also never forget that my father never raised his voice and rarely got angry. At night, if there was a problem, he and my mother would sit quietly and talk it out until everything fixed.

On Sundays we spent most of our day at home, which was another way my Dad led by example. He was always ready to help and was the first to volunteer if the need arose. He loved God, and it showed.

He was wounded many times by nearers andc dearers, which limited some of his physical activities, but when he could, he was chatting with me or teach me about my faults of future and rectifies my past. If the mistake of us affected him, he never showed it. Even when asked, he wasn't very forthcomming. He just wanted to leave that part of his life behind and concentrate on his family and future.

My father died when I was forty-six, but there is something that I will always remember. He showed me that it's not what you say but what you do that matters most.

Finally I remember how my dad and mom came to us a little over a year ago to talk about the first of his illnesses, and how they tried to put a positive spin on everything that was about to happen. My dad wanted all of us to be in this together, yet deep down kept the most serious parts of his illness from all of us. That's the kind of man my dad was; it was never about himself, but always about others.

I love my dad, and I will always love my dad, and I got to tell him that before his final breath; what better way for my dad to let us know how much he loved us.