Ode to My Father

Lately, I've been feeling kind of down. I don't know if it's because the year is ending and the holidays are upon us or something else. Then it hit me: I miss my dad. It's been over three months since he's passed and I still haven't completely dealt with his death. Everytime I think of him, tears well up in my eyes. The pain I'm feeling is inmeasuarable. I can't stop crying about it. I keep thinking about when I was a kid and all the times we spent together, all those Christmases. All those trips I took to California when I was in high school and college to visit him, and then my eventual move out there to be closer to him.

I had a very abnormal childhood. He wasn't your typical play-golf-on-Sunday type of Dad. He was a loner. He always wore dress pants and a blazer no matter what the occasion. I rarely saw him in jeans. Even though he'd lived in this country for over 40 years, he still had an accent. He could be the most generous man, but then be a total bastard. He was a brilliant man, but he self-destructed and threw all his potential away. This is the tragedy of his life. When I think of him, I think of the nice man he was, not how he abandoned the family when I was eight, or how he used to beat the shit out of my mom, or cheat on her, or how I didn't see him for 6 years. Spending time with him in L.A was great--i saw him every week. Then in August of 2000, something unspeakable occurred and I didn't see him until Sept. of this year. Then it was too late. He didn't recognize me. These circumstances were beyond our control. It wasn't like we were going to spend b-days and holidays together, although I wished for it. Sometimes things just happen. When he was dying, a lot of my friends were like: "You never talked much about him." My dad has always been a sensitive subject for me even when he was alive and especially now. I find myself opening up more about it now, though. When I was a kid, I'd go over to my friends' houses and they would have a dad there. It's especially strange now when people talk about their dads in the present tense. It's weird telling people I just met how my dad died. The first time my new roommates asked about my dad and I told them he died, there was an awkward five minute pause. But, what the hell do you say in any sort of death situation?

Right now I'm missing him a lot. I can't even begin to wrap my head around it. I used to be so close to him, but he was always more like a pal then a dad. He never disiplined me. He thought the world of me. I was his little Najmeh (he always referred to me by my middle name). He loved me more than my mother, I think, and definitley treated me better than my brother which has always been an issue of discontent. I remember being little and waking up crying and he'd rush in to take check on me, laying next to me until I or he feel asleep. I don't remember my mother doing this. The people who live above me have a baby and sometimes I'm woken up by it crying. I hear the pitter patter of the parent's feet rushing in to tend to the kid. This makes me think of my dad rushing to my rescue as a tyke. My mother has handled my father's death quite well, being her usual pillar of strength. Even though my parents have been divorced for over 20 years, she mentioned how she'd like to be buried next to him. I admire her. After everything he did to her and the family, she still cares about him and forgave him. And I don't harbor any anger towards the man who left the family and has since given me a fear of abandonment and issues with men. Sometimes I think about paying tribute to my dad. Sometimes I think I should go to his home country, Iran, and sprinkle his ashes on the city he grew up in and loved. I feel like I owe this to him. I think maybe I should learn Farsi or how to cook Persian food, or become a Muslim like him, but I know I won't. I want to honor him in some way. Damn, I wish he was here right now to comfort me, to tell me it'll all be okay...to come around and kick some boys asses for me...to tell me what to do with my life. And for the first time in a long time, I had a dream about his last night. He was alive and celebrating Christmas with us. Then he faded away. The grief is something I have to deal with. It's not going to go away until I confront it and make peace with it. When will it stop hurting? Does it ever stop hurting? My mom's dad died when she was only 19. I never knew my grandfather. But she says the pain eventually disapates. Like all things, it takes time. It's only been since September 10th. He passed five days before my b-day.

All I want to do now is go home and celebrate the holiday with my family. I will be spending Christmas Eve with my Dad's brother (my uncle) and his family. I suppose this will help preserve my dad's memory in a way. My dad would've liked that. He'll be celebrating with us in spirit.

I miss you dad, wherever you are. You'll never know how much. Until we meet again.