Dad, thank you for appearing in my life… A gratitude post to all those men who did as my father did. My mom gave birth to me very young; I calculated she was 17 at the time. I never knew my father. Mom didn’t talk about him, and I wasn’t very curious.
Why bother about someone who doesn’t care about you? I was nine when my mom introduced me to her husband. I reluctantly accepted him. I wasn’t thrilled about having someone new in our family. A typical child who doesn’t understand all the needs of an adult. My mom was 26 then, and her husband was 30. I moved with my mom into his apartment. I got my own room. We all went on walks to the park and cafes together. I understood it was all done for my sake, so I would have a better attitude towards men. But no.
I thought my mom and I were the perfect family, and we didn’t need anyone else. Mom ended up in the hospital. She had surgery at the city hospital. She was discharged a week later, but her condition worsened; she developed a fever and delirium. Uncle Sasha (that’s what I called him then) started making calls, then he put mom in the car and left. He returned without the car and without mom. Years later, I learned that my mom had to undergo another surgery at a private clinic. Uncle Sasha paid the clinic with his car, recently bought straight from the showroom. Within a week, he got rid of his collection of rare wines. He had a massive collection. I remember mom was still in the clinic when I asked about the car, and Uncle Sasha replied,
“I traded it for your mom’s health.” That phrase hit me hard then. I still remember how he spoke to her. Since then, my attitude towards him changed drastically. I started calling him Dad. A few years later, he helped me get into university because I didn’t meet the required grades. It’s a pity such a person appeared in my life when I was nine… I wish he had been my dad from the beginning… But you know, all these financial matters weren’t very important for a child.
I remember how he helped me with homework, how the three of us played volleyball, and how we made a special cake from rusks and condensed milk.
And, of course, a special thank you for how he communicated with my mom. I remember all that love he put into his words, how he stroked her hair. It was genuine happiness. Thank you, Dad, for making my mom happy!
