My father’s day

I still remember the day my mind slipped into a domino like collapse. It looked nice while it lasted but it was suspect to outside forces and could come down any moment. That moment happened to be that day. Everything was fine in the morning with the usual father-son chat and then the rush to college where my thoughts were set upon going back home again. I remember sitting in class and talking to a friend when an office staff approached me and asked me to go home as soon as possible. He didn’t say why. I just thought that my father needed me at the shop so he could go home and see mom.

These flashes still light up my slumber like lightning on a dark rainy night. The class room, my bus journey, the walk to the shop, the closed shop and the black flag in front of the shop. Maybe I was too young to realise or maybe I didn’t want to. A coolie in his red shirt came up to me, held my hand and said, “Father’s gone.” What is this guy saying? Where did my father go? Why is the shop closed? Scene after scene flashed in front of me, and I tried to see whether my father was in it. For some reason he wasn’t.

Many people said many things to me. I really couldn’t hear them. All I wanted to do was to see my father. Maybe he was sick. Or could he have gotten into some kind of trouble? I was walking. Half way I realised I was walking to the hospital. Some one caught hold of my hand and led me through a narrow path to a corner of the hospital. As I neared a big room I could hear women crying. I thought father would have come to see someone really sick in the hospital. I entered the room. The person suddenly squeezed my hand and held my shoulder.

Now I am old enough to realise what happened that day. I am sane enough to know what I lost and what I would have done with father today. But today can’t bring back yesterday and what is lost can’t be gained with years running past. Happy father’s day.