I reminisce about the values and disciplines I got from the kind of fatherhood I enjoyed, and how the whole concept affects society. Please allow me to share my thoughts with you. The concluding part would be posted soon. Enjoy!
The first time I referred to my father as “the late”; I had to pause and think. I took time to ask myself if it was truly so, and if things would stay that way from that moment onwards. It was the middle of a prayer my Mother and I shared. She must have had the same experience I had at that moment because she was quiet for the period of my hiatus. The prayers soon continued, were concluded and we went about our businesses.
It was not the first time I was experiencing the loss of a loved one, no, but this is the closest it had ever come. For people who had been in those shoes, it is only normal. For me, the experience was far from normal – it was the sudden realization that someone whose presence in a location you had taken for granted was gone from there, never to return.
Commiserations came in from all angles; a good chunk of those featured the opinion that it was not such a loss since the departed one in this case had lived to an enviable “ripe, old age”. For me, it was by all means a loss. My old old man, whose demise I should have been prepared for, seeing that he had cheated death more than a few times since he turned seventy (and I was convinced that I was prepared) had finally taken his exit and I was caught unawares.
I pride myself as a teenager who did not give his parents trouble. Yes, boys would be boys, but some have the prefix “problematic” before that general term and I was not one of those. I was your unusual good boy, occasionally exhibiting characteristics that indicated that I was normal afterall. However, my father & I? Oh! We have a history: long and drawn battles over issues usually coming to a closing scene that would most likely reveal me, flat on my face and belly, supplication on my lips, pleading for forgiveness. Did we have verbal exchanges on issues? Hardly so – I was far too well-brought up to go that way – but I was not always repentant. And I am sure my father knew that. I was a very stubborn lad; I soon understood that there was no escape route from the apology scenes after issues came up, but I would delay “action” on them, and eventually only be observing the formalities of obedience and respect. My rebellion, you see, was subtle: as an observer you could very easily be deceived. But not Dad! I believe he must have gone through the exact same phase, because we stayed on that “lesson” long enough for me to be truly sorry, even if it was only in the interest of peace. It had to either be that he completely understood how to get the right results, or God chose to move beyond Dr. Sosan’s actions/inactions to produce the right results in me.
It is often said that you do not ascribe the full worth of a thing to it until you have lost it. I would not agree that I did not give substantial regard to my father in his lifetime. No! I believe I have learned understanding to some of the decisions he took that did not make sense back then; hind-sight gives me an opportunity that he acted more on divine inspiration than archaism; that an essential value of love and genuine interest in the things that concerned others, those lacking in our society today, was a force that drove him. I missed my father when he died about seven months ago, but I miss him more now because I realise that he was grossly under-valued, even by me!
I feel the importance he attached to quality time with family is a lesson he learned a hard way, but it is something he never defaulted on while I knew him as father. I was driven to school daily by father in his seventies. As a matter of fact, I started to write an examination that had me go across town, and my father insisted on being the chauffeur to make it all happen for me. And I knew to say “Thank you” properly, (several times over too) in my own interest. When I went away to the university and my father had been advised to go off driving, he still did not minding being driven two hours (one way) to drop off his son at school. Once we were in traffic for about five hours en route my school, only to have to turn round. Rather than complain, it was quality time again – what a beautiful reunion we had!
When our teachers went on strike sometime during my junior secondary school years, my father took on the role of holiday teacher to me. My life became even more regimented: he woke me up at 5.30am and practically gave me a time-table that took care of house chores, other errands and study, only after morning prayers, of course. There was no way he did not know what we did in school, because he had taken my textbooks and had started defining the path of progress in them for me. Oh, how I hated that period! And I am the better for it today, (even if my results did not immediately reflect it).
Timidity is one of those characteristics that you cannot associate with my late father. No matter what the consequences were, Dr. Sosan always spoke his mind – especially if he felt anyone was being oppressed. He took it upon himself to write and, in some cases, arrange meetings with political leaders so as to bring to their notice (or say to their faces) what things they had failed to do. He was loved and cheered by many for it, but he was disliked and/or feared by many more. He always stood by what was right and always exhibited care for others. If my father was worrying about you, you no longer had any reason to do it for yourself – he had all ends covered. And he always sought for ways of helping others, once he found it, he swung into action.
The first time I referred to my father as “the late”; I had to pause and think. I took time to ask myself if it was truly so, and if things would stay that way from that moment onwards. It was the middle of a prayer my Mother and I shared. She must have had the same experience I had at that moment because she was quiet for the period of my hiatus. The prayers soon continued, were concluded and we went about our businesses.
It was not the first time I was experiencing the loss of a loved one, no, but this is the closest it had ever come. For people who had been in those shoes, it is only normal. For me, the experience was far from normal – it was the sudden realization that someone whose presence in a location you had taken for granted was gone from there, never to return.
Commiserations came in from all angles; a good chunk of those featured the opinion that it was not such a loss since the departed one in this case had lived to an enviable “ripe, old age”. For me, it was by all means a loss. My old old man, whose demise I should have been prepared for, seeing that he had cheated death more than a few times since he turned seventy (and I was convinced that I was prepared) had finally taken his exit and I was caught unawares.
I pride myself as a teenager who did not give his parents trouble. Yes, boys would be boys, but some have the prefix “problematic” before that general term and I was not one of those. I was your unusual good boy, occasionally exhibiting characteristics that indicated that I was normal afterall. However, my father & I? Oh! We have a history: long and drawn battles over issues usually coming to a closing scene that would most likely reveal me, flat on my face and belly, supplication on my lips, pleading for forgiveness. Did we have verbal exchanges on issues? Hardly so – I was far too well-brought up to go that way – but I was not always repentant. And I am sure my father knew that. I was a very stubborn lad; I soon understood that there was no escape route from the apology scenes after issues came up, but I would delay “action” on them, and eventually only be observing the formalities of obedience and respect. My rebellion, you see, was subtle: as an observer you could very easily be deceived. But not Dad! I believe he must have gone through the exact same phase, because we stayed on that “lesson” long enough for me to be truly sorry, even if it was only in the interest of peace. It had to either be that he completely understood how to get the right results, or God chose to move beyond Dr. Sosan’s actions/inactions to produce the right results in me.
It is often said that you do not ascribe the full worth of a thing to it until you have lost it. I would not agree that I did not give substantial regard to my father in his lifetime. No! I believe I have learned understanding to some of the decisions he took that did not make sense back then; hind-sight gives me an opportunity that he acted more on divine inspiration than archaism; that an essential value of love and genuine interest in the things that concerned others, those lacking in our society today, was a force that drove him. I missed my father when he died about seven months ago, but I miss him more now because I realise that he was grossly under-valued, even by me!
I feel the importance he attached to quality time with family is a lesson he learned a hard way, but it is something he never defaulted on while I knew him as father. I was driven to school daily by father in his seventies. As a matter of fact, I started to write an examination that had me go across town, and my father insisted on being the chauffeur to make it all happen for me. And I knew to say “Thank you” properly, (several times over too) in my own interest. When I went away to the university and my father had been advised to go off driving, he still did not minding being driven two hours (one way) to drop off his son at school. Once we were in traffic for about five hours en route my school, only to have to turn round. Rather than complain, it was quality time again – what a beautiful reunion we had!
When our teachers went on strike sometime during my junior secondary school years, my father took on the role of holiday teacher to me. My life became even more regimented: he woke me up at 5.30am and practically gave me a time-table that took care of house chores, other errands and study, only after morning prayers, of course. There was no way he did not know what we did in school, because he had taken my textbooks and had started defining the path of progress in them for me. Oh, how I hated that period! And I am the better for it today, (even if my results did not immediately reflect it).
Timidity is one of those characteristics that you cannot associate with my late father. No matter what the consequences were, Dr. Sosan always spoke his mind – especially if he felt anyone was being oppressed. He took it upon himself to write and, in some cases, arrange meetings with political leaders so as to bring to their notice (or say to their faces) what things they had failed to do. He was loved and cheered by many for it, but he was disliked and/or feared by many more. He always stood by what was right and always exhibited care for others. If my father was worrying about you, you no longer had any reason to do it for yourself – he had all ends covered. And he always sought for ways of helping others, once he found it, he swung into action.
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