A Decade Without You, Achaa (father) – My Remembrance

It has been ten years since my father left this world, leaving us indelible memories to remember. His presence is still alive in my memories — in his strict discipline, his loving corrections, his silent sacrifices, and the warmth hidden behind his serious face.

I can't accept it, though it's the reality, though it's true that he's no longer now. It feels like only yesterday. I'm unable to utter anything but to remain quiet. The world says that time heals everything. But even after these many years, those memories remain inextirpable, always penetrating profoundly, but I try to smile if I can.

Till the age of 15, I lived constantly with him. Those were the years of guidance, discipline, and love — though at the time, I only saw the discipline. He corrected me whenever I was mischievous, never allowing me to wander astray. He never wanted me to pick up bad habits like other children sometimes did. His rebukes were firm, but today I understand — they were his way of protecting me, shaping me, and preparing me for life. Behind every stern word was a heart full of love.

After 2005, life carried me away — first for studies, then for work. My visits home became short and rare. I was there for my vacations, but only briefly, and never long enough to truly be with him the way I had been in childhood. From 2005 to 2015, I saw my father only in moments, not in years. Yet even during those brief visits, he never stopped being my father in the fullest sense — even when I was grown up, it was he who woke me up in the mornings during vacations, as if I was still his little child.

My father’s nature was truly inspiring. He never lived for the opinions of others, never worried about what people would say, never sought praise or recognition. He lived with simplicity, humility, and quiet strength. He was content with life, and I deeply admire that about him. To me, that was his greatness — he did not need the world’s approval, only the peace of his own conscience.

And then came 2015 — a year that still weighs heavily on my heart. During one of my visits home, he came to the railway station to see me off. He smiled as I boarded the train, waving goodbye. Even now, I cannot forget that smile. Was it happiness, or was it a silent farewell? At that age, I was not mature enough to read his heart. I waved back, never imagining that this would be the last time I would see him healthy and standing before me.

Only three days after I reached my workplace, I received a call — he was unwell and admitted to the Medical College Hospital. I got the flight ticket booked and flew back, spent two weeks by his side, caring for him at the hospital and later at home. When he was discharged, he was so happy.

I can still see his face on that day — glowing with joy, filled with relief, radiating hope as he stepped back into the house. That image of his happiness is etched in my heart forever. He believed everything was going to be fine, and for a moment, so did I. His smile gave me hope.

Believing the danger had passed, and reassured by his words that he was alright, I left again for work. I did not realize then that these were his final days, that my presence at home was more important than anything else.

On 22 August 2015 (Saturday), my father asked for me. Perhaps he knew his time was near. He was admitted again, but this time, the days passed differently. On 24 August (Monday), while I was traveling home after hearing that his condition was serious, I felt an inner voice whisper: “Your father is no more.” I rebuked that thought, refusing to believe it. But when I reached, my worst fear had come true — he had left this world, without waiting for me to see him alive once more.

That moment broke me. I was 24 years old, standing at the crossroads of youth and adulthood, but suddenly I felt like a child again — lost, helpless, and longing for his presence.

Ten years have passed since then. Time has moved forward, life has demanded responsibilities, and the world has changed — but in my heart, my father is still alive. I often think of the time I missed being with him, the conversations I could have had, the moments I could have shared. And yet, alongside regret, there is gratitude — gratitude for the years I had with him, for the lessons he taught me, for the discipline that shaped me, and for the love that still surrounds me.

Papa, your absence is felt every single day, but so is your presence — in my values, in my choices, in the way I live my life. Your smile at the railway station, your strict corrections during my childhood, your humble and wonderful nature, and above all, the joy on your face when you came home from the hospital — all these remain etched in my heart.

Ten years may have passed, but my love for you has not changed. You may have left this world, but you will never leave me. You live on in me, forever.

With love and remembrance,

Yours ever lovingly, Son.

To be contd.......