This is a special post as it detracts from the general themes on this website. Well, that is not to say that anything is really off the table; it is just a matter of how much a certain subject can piss me off, and if I have something to say about that, then I'll have my say.
I hate, and I mean HATE, using this blog for exessively personal posts. And by personal posts, I don't mean my opinions on the world, but rather, my thoughts on my own existence. Fact is that I am just not comfortable making an exhibit of my personal life, but sometimes, certain experiences happen and they require one to divulge details that are personal.
Anyway, a bit of preface before I get to the full details. . .
Save for the last three years, my father and I spent the last two decades in persistent conflict. This was due to a variety of reasons from our complicated life-style and his professional obligations, to personal conflicts arising from outside interference. The underlying commonality: It was always external factors that caused us to butt-heads like a bunch of primal beasts, and never really a conflict between the two of us as individuals. Despite our differences, I learnt in recent years that the two of us never managed to create any issues between us since we never imposed upon each others life styles and choices. So yes, it was always an outside factor that would drive the 'wedge'. I believe my father regretted these circumstances and often felt responsible for the decades worth of rifts between us during my years in this fucked-up world.
Anyway, back to present times. . .
There's a point to this back-story because times did bring with them some changes; I'm a man now with his own life and family. Hell, it didn't take long before my father and I—as adults—sorted out our differences and realised just how similar and laid back we were when it came to being complaisant and not giving much of a fuck about the greater problems that governed our respective lives.
I remember when our second daughter was born in the back of a fuckin' cab. My old man called and we had a big laugh about the whole situation, but over and above that, I heard a sense of solace and contentment in his voice as he said, “Congratulations, boy! Now take good care of your three girls!” This was around early January, this year. It did seem like a new era had dawned on us, and that we would heave more decades of respect and solidarity that would contrast the past.
Now I am not one to re-write history or the past. If a certain experience pushed me towards becoming a cynical bastard, then none of that changes and none of it would be concealed from my kids. I was still the same sarcastic, cynical jerk that I have always been, but I had found personal satisfaction with some brighter changes in circumstance. I was truly grateful that my kids had at least one parent—my wife—who I knew was always a strong and powerful source of satisfaction and security in their lives. The results of this truth: Even I had embraced the identity of the eccentric but decent father who always had them laughing. We had become very effective and competent parents, in general, and most certainly exceptional for our age group. My father had also become a very humble, quiet, but invaluable source of support during these great times.
In the midst of all these great developments, I thought that I would share some of the fruits of my own life with my father. Perhaps, since I wasn't a man of birthdays when it came to my own, I would instead give my father a card for his personal day. After all, my wife and kids have religiously got me birthday and Father's Day cards for quite a few years now. Even though I still can't remember my own birthday off hand, I am reminded at least once each year by the people who don't fake a feeling of joy that is so pure and genuine. I thought, 'Why not share some of that darker contentment with my own old man.' It had indeed been a long time since I had extended such a gesture to my father, so I looked forward to the moment.
Unfortunately, just two days after my wife's birthday--a day I always honour and remember for the great woman and mother that she is--a very calm and lively evening was cut short when I heard news that my father had passed away out of the blue. My wife was left in tears; our infant children were left confused by the sudden change in the parents' mood; I was left stone cold silent with a very rapid pulse beating inside the centre of my head. I could've sworn it almost felt like I was having a stroke, even though I have no first-hand concept of what it feels like - it was an ugly feeling as the decades flashed before my very own eyes.
With his hectic and ultimately complicated life as a former senior diplomat, my father had made some political enemies who destroyed his career and then made sure he suffered even after the twilight years of his profession. The man always had a smile bigger than the fuckin' world and persistently reassured us that 'everything would be all right'. I am pretty sure keeping up that front with all his problems was taking a massive toll on both his mind and his body. He died of cardiac arrest, out of the blue – absolutely unexpected – especially given his overall better bill of health and fresh shape for his age.
I hit a bitter stumbling block, which was a conglomerate of mixed feelings, unresolved issues, guilt for the many years of unfair conflicts that we suffered. All of this was topped off by unfathomable animosity and jagged rage against the scum-bag bureaucrats in suits who stabbed my father in the back, and then sent his body down the fuckin' river, only to appear from their man-holes to mourn his death as a 'tragedy'. If these cunts had any shame, they'd kneel down, lower their heads and slit their wrists in a moment of overwhelming self-realisation that they destroyed a decent fucking human being because they were too busy engineering fickle-loyalties to the biggest bidder like whores in some sick brothel.
“As for those responsible for dragging my father into his early grave; I am confident in the knowledge that those cock-suckin' bastards in their fake suits will ultimately suffer within the confines of their bovine bourgeois prism of existence, pleading and praying to their absent false God for the salvation of their cold black hearts. At the end of the day, they will die face down and become worm food six-feet-under, in their own muck as an eternal reflection and summary of their disgraceful lives. No gods and demons shall save these bastards; they will perish into their black oblivion with shame and indignity echoing eternally as the final mementos of their existence. I am glad to know that these vermin, scum of the earth will forever rot inside their own hell.” - My personal closure.
Today, August 4th, would've been that rare moment when I would've given my father a card celebrating his day of birth, and told him that it was okay if my own childhood wasn't that great, and that I never blamed him for not wanting to celebrate my own moments as a kid. A true opportunity to tell him that he's ace in my books and that we're both cool, and that he can expect cards like that from me and my family for the rest of his life.
I guess, the only two words that come to mind now. . . too bad. Oh, and. . . too late.
“S.M. Hyder Razvi, old man, may your devoted and honourable presence rest well, free of this world of cheaters, liars, gods, kings, false-creeds and deceptions. You were ultimately a good man, despite our many disagreements; you were protective and respectful towards my values and my family. . . you gave my wife your warmth and protective care, and showed her just how a true father shelters his child. . . that was an honourable gesture in my books. You truly are a man free of all that is a culmination of humanity's farces and bane. . . free of all the institutions and faiths that failed you during your life and your true times of need, but never allowed you to forget who you are as a person. Your body is now one with this Earth and what remains of your blood, now lives on--immortalised--in the content lives of my kids - your grandchildren. You truly have transcended. Your legacy has risen above all gods, kings, and their heavens. We honour you and your memory as an integral part of our lives and existence.”
A part of who I am died that day, but I guess. . . now it is my turn to put on a brave smirk and tell my kids that everything will be perfectly fine.
Thanks for reading, people.
Take it easy.
Later,
Kade
0 comments:
Post a Comment