Dad, thank you for coming into my life… This is a post of gratitude to all those men who did as my father did. My mom gave birth to me at a very young age. I calculated that she was 17 at the time of my birth. I never knew my father. My mom didn’t talk about him, and I wasn’t very curious. Why be interested in someone who had no interest in you?
I was 9 years old when my mom introduced me to her partner. I reluctantly accepted him. I was absolutely not okay with the idea of someone else joining our family. I was a typical child who didn’t understand all the needs of an adult. Back then, my mom was 26, and her partner was 30. I moved in with my mom to her partner’s apartment. I had my own room. We all went for walks in the park and to cafes together. I understood that it was all done for my sake, to help me develop a better attitude toward men. But no.
I believed that my mom and I were the perfect family, and we didn’t need anyone else. My mom ended up in the hospital. Initially, she had surgery at the city hospital. After a week, she was discharged, but her fever wouldn’t go down, and she started to hallucinate. Uncle Sasha (I used to call him that back then) began making phone calls, then he took my mom in the car and left. He returned without the car and without my mom.
Years later, I found out that my mom had to undergo a second surgery at a private clinic. Uncle Sasha settled the bill with the clinic using his brand-new car, which he had just bought from the showroom. He also got rid of his collection of rare wines. His collection was extensive. I remember that my mom was still in the clinic when I asked where the car had gone, and Uncle Sasha replied, “I traded it for your mom’s health.” That statement struck me deeply. I still remember how he said it. Since then, my attitude toward him changed drastically. From that moment, I started calling him “Dad.” Over the years, he helped me financially to enter university since my grades weren’t high enough. It’s a pity that such a person appeared in my life when I was 9. If only he had been my dad from the very beginning. But you know, all those financial matters aren’t very important for a child. I remember how he helped me with my homework, how the three of us played volleyball, and how we made a no-bake cake with crackers and condensed milk together.
And of course, a special thank you for the way he communicated with my mom. I remember all the love he put into his words, how he caressed my mom’s hair. It was true happiness. Thank you, Dad, for making my mom happy!