â€œDaddy, can you fly?â€ I asked my father. For me, my father is my superhero and I wanted to make sure that he could simply do everything the superman does.
â€œNo, I canâ€™t fly son. But I can forever love you to the height of the sky.â€ He replied with a gentle smile.
I was disappointed and jealous of that guy behind the screen.
My father has always been my real hero. Mother says â€˜Babaâ€™ was the first word I had learnt to pronounce. But the word didnâ€™t pop out of my mouth as beautiful gesture as my father and mother had anticipated it to arrive. I botched.
â€œBaa-Baaâ€ cried the one and a half year old me.
I spoke as if there were two words to pronounce. Nonetheless, that didnâ€™t snatch away any bit of my parentâ€™s happiness. Their eyes sparkled. I could carry on with pronouncing every words of my life twice, and my parents would still love me. That was the moment when I first realized that no matter what I do in life, my parents will always be there for me.
My childhood circled around my fatherâ€™s life. I climbed up his shoulders, hung in his biceps, goofed around in his head, and stuck into to his moving legs as if it was a steady pole. He would kneel down as I would sit in his back, like a conqueror on his way to invade a new land.
We both grew together. As I was growing young and tough, my father was turning old and fragile. He left us when I was 16. He eventually flew in the sky, leaving behind a hollow space in my heart that shall never be contained again.
It felt like I had requested too much when I asked him if he could ever fly. I feel his absence each time my heart beats. The only fragments left of him are memories.
Whether alive or dead, he will always be my father. He was the one who presented me the gift of life. He was the one who held my hands whenever I fell off that bicycle. He was the one who always loved me a hundred times more than himself. As for me, he is the true God that actually exists. He is my father. He is my blood.
During his final hours in this world, father called me in his bed. He told me to come close and said, â€œSorry son, I could never fly.â€
I was all in tears. I could barely utter a word. I let him know that he is best father to have ever lived. And even though he didnâ€™t fly, he was and will always be my superhero.
â€œIt doesnâ€™t matter, Daddy. You forever loved me to the height of the sky.â€ I replied.
By Sailesh RC
The writer is an undergraduate student of Media Studies at Kathmandu University.