YOUR SAY: Who has a better dad than mine?

Today I walk down the podium to receive my doctorate degree. I smile broadly at my father and head to the dais.

As I bow down to receive my cap, I hear ululation, and I imagine my father  saying, “That’s my daughter!”

As I return to my seat, I am met halfway by the man who has been my lifelong pillar. He hugs me tightly, smiles broadly and whispers, “We did it Shan; we made it. Just look how far we have come…”

Looking back; I can only use one word to describe my father - phenomenal. He has been there for me ever since that cold night that marked the start of my life and ended my mother’s.

From my very first day on earth, through my terrible twos, my rebellious teens, to my catastrophic early twenties. He has nursed me, helped me find my vectors when I lost direction, led me gently, though at times being tough and hard on me when called for.

With hindsight though, I am afraid that at times I was a little too head-strong and erred. Not once or twice, not even thrice; but so many times, until I felt I was not the good child he deserved. It makes me feel like I should go back in time and slap myself real hard, but then I am reminded of some moments that marked turning points in my life. That sad day when I came last in my end year exam.

I was scared, ashamed and disappointed, so much so, I could not bring myself to show him my results.

But dad, my loving understanding father, assured me that it wasn’t the end of the world.

“It’s true you have hit an all-time low, but we will move up the ladder together. We will do it,” he said.

DILIGENT STUDENT

You should have seen how diligent a student I was that vacation. There was no hanging out with my friends, no movies… It was me and my books.

Oh! the joy that I had the next term when I bagged a prize for outstanding performance. We moved up, literally.

Then that day I was suspended from school. You should have seen the look on dad’s face. I had hurt him. He was aghast, but instead told me that I needed to clean up and become more responsible.

It makes sense now, but at the time, I was too rebellious to know what I was getting myself into, and so after some introspection, and feeling sorry for dad instead of myself; I scribbled a note at the end of my suspension and left it on his bed.

“Pa, I am sorry I messed up; one day I will clean up and you will be proud of me. Promise,” I wrote.

I did clean up, and though not to perfection, I knew when to draw the line and to recognise wrong-doing.

He was here beside me through it all. He taught me to always do my best, and always look at a glass as half full, not half empty. It paid off, I mean, look at my degree.

Dad, looking happier than I do, leads me out of the graduation square, announcing that it is celebration time.

I look at him and remind him of that brief note many years ago. He smiles at me fondly, and I press his hand with gratitude.

“I cleaned up dad; I told you I’d make you proud, didn’t I?” I say.

From cradle to gown; my dad has always been there for me.