The letter is to you, but I will be selfish, as I always was, and begin with writing about myself.
The last time I saw you, I was 15 and you were in your early forties. Your face was young, your hair along with your beard was black. The next I saw you is NOW, when I am 20.
And now that I am 20 and you are in your late forties, I realize how you have grown old in a matter of years. Your face has started to show the toll of these years on you, your hair and beard once black is now peppered with white.
I think I should have seen you daily and sketched a better portrait of yours than this black and white which I am right now portraying.
Dad, I think I should have seen you more often than I did.
I think I should have paid attention to your face every time I told you about my day.
I think I should have admired your smile every time I told you a really bad PJ (you would always laugh at it while maa would give me a facepalm look before laughing at once).
I think I should spend a little more time with you.
Dad, today, while you were sitting in the doctor’s chair, I could see the yellow in your eyes. You are ageing. This childish nightmare of your absence has taken the shape of a storm within me since nobody can ever replace you.
And dad, I miss you every time you leave home for days or fight with mom because it kills all the moments we could have spend smiling with each other.
I know I should stop complaining and cherish the time left.
And dad, thank you.
Thank you dad, for being my dad.
Thank you for still asking me if I needed chocolates.
Thank you for taking care of me whenever I fell sick.
Thank you for being a shenanigan with me.
Thank you for scolding me, I think it taught me a lot about life.
Dad, “sorry” for I can never thank you enough.
And hey, hero! Look, I love you. And you still look handsome in your blue and green (with a little red) shirt, so please stop thinking about the plain ones.
(Edited by: Vrinda Bhargava)