The Hand On My Shoulder

#GreatDad - The Hand On My Shoulder

It’s been a decade. Sometimes it feels like yesterday. And sometimes, a lifetime ago.
He is not present. Not physically.

There are moments when I open the main door and see him. He is fumbling to find a chocolate in his coat even before he greets me with a reassuring hug. Maa cribs, “Stop giving her chocolates. Your daughter is a mother of a son.” He shrugs, “So what, she’ll always be my little girl.” 
A dad, they say is always making his baby into a little woman. And when she is a woman, he turns her back into a baby again.

At times, I see him walking with the senior citizens in my apartment complex. He is leading the group, regaling them with amusing anecdotes, oftentimes repeating them over and over again. At times I see him engaged in an animated political discussion, or reading a book in the garden.
There are days when I see him carrying his stethoscope, rushing off to see a patient in the middle of the night. He returns in a pensive mode. I know the prognosis is bleak. It is my turn to cheer him up.
It is impossibly surreal, when, at one point I see him at the book launch of my story in an anthology. He is standing in the last row, beaming a proud smile, holding the book, sharing my sense of accomplishment. But he is not present. Not physically.

Sometimes, I need him when someone in the family falls sick and no doctor in the vicinity picks up his phone in the middle of the night. I need him to tell me if we need to begin with the antibiotics or wait for the fever to subside. 
I need him when my son acts like a teenager insisting on a solo road trip. Dad's sane voice instills sense almost magically, transforming the sullen teen into a pliable young man. Above all, I need him to be there for my mother who now lives alone. 
But he is not present. Not physically.

Sometimes I want him to take me on a scooter ride for some fresh air and ice-cream. I want him to teach me how to play bridge, to help me buy a new car, to remind me that I can never say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ too often, and to find positives in every person and situation. 

That’s what #Great Dads are, aren’t they? They are present through our trials, tribulations and triumphs. Holding us and releasing us from time to time. Encouraging us to develop wings even while they nourish and strengthen the roots. The word “Fatherhood’ is the very definition of being the protector and purveyor of wisdom. Being a dad is like being a teacher, a coach, a friend and a role model rolled in one.
But he is not present. Not physically.

Nevertheless, the task ahead becomes easier with his hand on my shoulders. Those who live in your heart can never go away.