A Bittersweet Day

Father’s Day brings sweet memories along with tears

For one immigrant, the pain of missing his father is brought home anew every year on Father’s Day.

I ‘s been almost 30 years and I still have so much pain in my heart. I couldn’t believe it when I lost him, just like that. My heart may never heal.

As we celebrate Father’s Day this month, the pain of having lost my father overwhelms me.

I remember well our modestsized house in India, especially the little room my dad used as a post office—he was the postmaster. In that house lived my four sisters, my brother, Mom, Dad and me. We were not rich nor poor, just a happy, loving family.

Dad was 38 when he moved from India to Canada—he wanted to provide a better education and a better life for us. He wrote a letter to one of my uncles in Toronto, who was more than willing to help, and got in touch with the immigration office, successfully getting a visitor’s visa for my dad. So the day came when he flew to Canada, in pursuit of a better future for his kids. I was only five years of age.

After a few months, Dad wrote us a letter saying he was fine and happy. That letter, and many like it, kept coming to our door for 11 years. Yet, even as he lived in Canada, his health was failing— but fearing we would worry, he never let on.

He spent those years in Canada as a refugee, until finally receiving his landed immigrant papers after 11 years. He wrote telling us he was coming to visit and that we’d all be moving to Canada.

We were so happy that we would all finally be together. It was to be a huge family reunion. Sadly, my father did not live to see his family back together, as he suffered a fatal heart attack.

We were shattered. My uncle who had helped Dad get to Canada once again came into our lives as an angel. He wrote to us—a letter full of love and affection—love that I longed for as I missed my dad. So touched was I that I wrote him a letter, addressing him as “Dad.” Saddened by my letter, he took it upon himself to take care of us. He supported our efforts to come to Canada, then helped us become successful once we were here.

Canada is a wonderful country. Even after 30 years here, I continue to learn new things, find new challenges and have new experiences. But still so many times I can’t help thinking it was here that my dad was taken away from us. When I see others doting on their dads, giving them gifts on Father’s Day and wishing them a long, happy life, I want to do the same—but to whom can I give my Father’s Day gift? I wish he was still around—but he did teach me to be kind to others and to find the good in people. I’d like to think that his words shaped me into a generous and optimistic man who takes his friendships seriously and spreads a bit of cheer every day.

I have two children of my own now: a son, Satnam, and a daughter, Gurleen. I wish my father was here to encourage and motivate me, to show me what it means to be a good parent.

Life is so short, too short, and often the ones we love are taken away from us too soon. So soon, in fact, that we never had the chance to tell them how much we loved them—but I guess they are the ones whom God also loves so much.