Farhan

Daddy. Baba. Dad. Father. Memories of my dad bring extreme joy to my heart.  Days that were fully spent with him ignite happy flashbacks that are played over and over again in my mind. Writing with my father had always been fun, because he gradually taught me how to hold a pencil, to how to edit a national competition scientific research that won the first place. His laughter, his smile, his warm hugs, his unique scent, his conversations. Everything about my dad was exceptional. 

It has been almost two weeks in this world without him texting me "Good morning" and sometimes calling me to say "Go to sleep dear, it's late and you have school tomorrow.".  He was so gentle in everything he did. He raised the five of us on respect and politeness.  He never punished any of us, instead, he always had a story to tell that would teach us a valuable lesson that we shall never forget.  

I miss him. I miss him deeply.  He wasn't only a father. He was a friend, a teacher, a travel mate, and a reading buddy. Every weekend we would hang out, even as I got older, we still hung out.  He would talk about economics or politics.  Then he would change the topic to culture and travel. We discussed many things, and we always found something to debate about.  We shared the love of seafood.  We would always go to our favorite restaurants and dig in!  Whether our meal consisted of lobsters or shrimps, or both of them together, we always recognized their different flavors and discussed "The Knowledge of Food".  

My dad supported me in all of my ideas. He always said "Why not?  Do it, and if things get real and official, then we can talk about them.".  He didn't take matters seriously, he simply lived for his moment, and he did his best teaching me how to do that. "Overthinking is ruining your present" he would say. I would smile and say "Naaah, I'm good!".  He said yes when I asked him if I can volunteer in a huge festival at the age of 15. He said yes when I asked him if I can start writing in an online newspaper. He cheered for me when I won different prizes at the school and never missed a parents' meeting. He realized that even when my grades were good, they don't necessarily "define you" according to him. That is why when he recognized that my joy is not in studying, he made sure to strengthen my social side.  He said yes when I joined different councils and volunteering teams. And he said yes, when I applied to the YES. 

Seeing him proud. Witnessing his happiness. Hearing his joy. Sensing his satisfaction. I lost my true happiness that was generated by his motivating talks as soon as I heard the news. It hurts, it hurts a lot.  I can't stop myself from wondering if my life will ever move on without my father. Yet then I remember, even though his body is not here, his soul is still surrounding me.  Farhan means "Happy" in Arabic. The happiness that he put into raising me shall live in my heart as long as I live. 

May he rests in peace.