There are those wispy winter evenings or sultry summer evenings in our wide courtyard; my brother and I used to wait eagerly for Deuta (Dad) to come back from work and bring something for us to eat. Piping hot samosas to aromatic dry fruit ladoos from the local joints. After years of moving to the USA, when I visit my parents, Deuta eagerly waits at the airport with the happiness of meeting me in teary eyes, looking at my face steadily and lovingly.
Over the past 18 years, I often spoke to him, but I never had the urge to wish him a Happy Father's Day. Probably in our generation, growing up in India, celebrating Father's Day was not the norm; however, my two children here in the USA celebrate Father's Day with great zeal alongside their wonderful dad. Deuta was always there in my failure, in my success, in my happiness, and in my sadness. It has been almost six months since losing him, and life has suddenly felt barren and empty. Although I tried to return to normalcy in life, it feels incomplete.
He lived all his life with a sweet and subtle smile on his face. Now, people remember him with a fond flashback of that smile, meeting and greeting them. When I feel the ache of losing him in my heart, remembering that smile brings a smile to my face. We can forget the time we spent, but we never forget the time we lived, and we did live life with you, Deuta.
Happy Father's Day to all the dads.
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