Dear Tamara,
Do you remember that wooden bench we built together? You may not have done the carpentry, but your sunny smile and glistening eyes were what kept me going in the blazing heat. It was on this very bench you said "Dad" the very first time. Your very first word. I was the proudest man in the word and you made me cry, Tamara. In that moment, when I swept you off your feet and twirled, with you squealing in my arms, I knew. That you would be the most challenging, yet the sweetest form of responsibility thrown my way.
Do you remember when I taught you how to read? We went to the book store to pick your first book. Daddy's girl as you always were, you picked a flashy ninja comic. When we used to read, I used to deliberately skip some portions and get to the dialogues containing the word "shuriken". Maybe it was the way it sounded, but it always made you laugh with amusement, and you'd clap those tiny, chubby hands of yours. I used to watch you and stroke your curly hair in wonder, because gems like you come along only once in a generation.
That frightening day when I dropped you off to school for the first time. You stood at the gates half an hour early, with the best packet of crayons and sharpest of pencils. I'm sorry for taking so long to oil and braid your hair. My hands were trembling with the apprehension of leaving you alone for the first time. I feared you were too gentle, too delicate a flower to be torn apart by the world just yet.
You were always a rebellious teenager. I never told you, but I'll shamefully admit, that there was once a time when I sat all alone on the couch and cried. I thought I was no longer your hero. That you no longer loved me, and now, I was not the only family you had. All I wanted was to guide you. It killed me,all those times I knew when you lied to me. Your eyes went all over the place except on mine, or you'd scratch your cheek all the time and stammer. I let you go anyway. I don't apologize for keeping a GPS check on you, or stalking your friends on Instagram to find out where you were, though.
The day you got married? You looked exactly like your mother from the other side of the aisle. I know she'd be watching from the heavens and smiling down at you. I know she wanted to be there, by my side, when I broke down as you left the nest. I closed my eyes and asked her if I had done a good job of bringing you up, without her. When I opened my eyes, I saw you, glowing, with a wide smile on your face, so sure of yourself as you said your vows, and I knew my answer was a yes.
We've been through so much, Tamara. Now, you no longer laugh at "shuriken", as they're always hurled at you in the form of complications. I'm amazed when you face them bravely, unlike most people, who choose to dodge them. I'm sorry I'm too weak to protect you from all the shuriken now. I'm sorry for hurling one at you at times.
Now that these are my last hours, and you're stuck in the snow,
I'll have to do without looking at your beautiful face for the last time, simply remembering your childhood, Team You And Me.
But I can never leave without telling my partner in crime not only how much she means to me, but how she was the only reason I went on living, after I saw your mother's coffin being lowered into the grave on that cold winter morning.
I just want you to know that if you have a child who takes after you in personality or features, you need not repent or regret. You're perfect, and you can overlook the minor scratches on your surface, just like the red bench. A part of me will always be in that bench and in your heart, if you ever need me.
I love you. I pray, that wherever you go, people know that you have the one of the purest of hearts.
Goodbye.
Dad.
Do you remember that wooden bench we built together? You may not have done the carpentry, but your sunny smile and glistening eyes were what kept me going in the blazing heat. It was on this very bench you said "Dad" the very first time. Your very first word. I was the proudest man in the word and you made me cry, Tamara. In that moment, when I swept you off your feet and twirled, with you squealing in my arms, I knew. That you would be the most challenging, yet the sweetest form of responsibility thrown my way.
Do you remember when I taught you how to read? We went to the book store to pick your first book. Daddy's girl as you always were, you picked a flashy ninja comic. When we used to read, I used to deliberately skip some portions and get to the dialogues containing the word "shuriken". Maybe it was the way it sounded, but it always made you laugh with amusement, and you'd clap those tiny, chubby hands of yours. I used to watch you and stroke your curly hair in wonder, because gems like you come along only once in a generation.
That frightening day when I dropped you off to school for the first time. You stood at the gates half an hour early, with the best packet of crayons and sharpest of pencils. I'm sorry for taking so long to oil and braid your hair. My hands were trembling with the apprehension of leaving you alone for the first time. I feared you were too gentle, too delicate a flower to be torn apart by the world just yet.
You were always a rebellious teenager. I never told you, but I'll shamefully admit, that there was once a time when I sat all alone on the couch and cried. I thought I was no longer your hero. That you no longer loved me, and now, I was not the only family you had. All I wanted was to guide you. It killed me,all those times I knew when you lied to me. Your eyes went all over the place except on mine, or you'd scratch your cheek all the time and stammer. I let you go anyway. I don't apologize for keeping a GPS check on you, or stalking your friends on Instagram to find out where you were, though.
The day you got married? You looked exactly like your mother from the other side of the aisle. I know she'd be watching from the heavens and smiling down at you. I know she wanted to be there, by my side, when I broke down as you left the nest. I closed my eyes and asked her if I had done a good job of bringing you up, without her. When I opened my eyes, I saw you, glowing, with a wide smile on your face, so sure of yourself as you said your vows, and I knew my answer was a yes.
We've been through so much, Tamara. Now, you no longer laugh at "shuriken", as they're always hurled at you in the form of complications. I'm amazed when you face them bravely, unlike most people, who choose to dodge them. I'm sorry I'm too weak to protect you from all the shuriken now. I'm sorry for hurling one at you at times.
Now that these are my last hours, and you're stuck in the snow,
I'll have to do without looking at your beautiful face for the last time, simply remembering your childhood, Team You And Me.
But I can never leave without telling my partner in crime not only how much she means to me, but how she was the only reason I went on living, after I saw your mother's coffin being lowered into the grave on that cold winter morning.
I just want you to know that if you have a child who takes after you in personality or features, you need not repent or regret. You're perfect, and you can overlook the minor scratches on your surface, just like the red bench. A part of me will always be in that bench and in your heart, if you ever need me.
I love you. I pray, that wherever you go, people know that you have the one of the purest of hearts.
Goodbye.
Dad.
