Remembering Dad

I have wanted to write an article about my Dad for a few years now and in recent weeks I felt more compelled than ever to do it. I also heard the whispers from my dear friend on June 7th, 2022 who asked, “how are you feeling about your Dad and do you want to talk about it? A conversation with Theresa Campbell (Coach T) on June 16th, 2022 who heard my desire to write this article and simply said, “It’s Father Day’s weekend coming up and I am hearing you are writing the article!” I knew in that moment it was time … I later saw a June 16, 2013 Facebook post wishing my Dad a “Happy Father’s Day.” The universe and stars are aligned and here I am doing the thing I have resisted.

My earliest memories of my Dad is that of an articulate man who seemed to know everything. He had a commanding, powerful voice that could be heard from afar, whether you were in the room or not. He was born in Guyana, South America and came from humble beginnings. He was passionate about education and instilled in his three children the value of continuous learning and excellence. While his closest friends were able to study abroad my Dad had to work at a young age and subsequently support a family after eloping with the love his life at the age of 19. Despite his disappointment at not being able to pursue his studies abroad his gifts and natural abilities provided him with many growth opportunities in the bauxite and rice industries in Guyana including his licensure as an electrician. His decision to migrate to the United States was driven by a desire for a better life for his wife and children given the turmoil in Guyana at the time.

My Dad exemplified the story of the American immigrant as he left everything behind and started over in 1970. Both my parents worked hard to provide the best opportunities for their three children. Dad always preached about respecting the value of the money you earn and to live below your means in order to acquire financial well-being especially when life happens. He was a strict father, whether it was how we should handle money with our first Summer jobs, getting the highest grades in school or not allowing his daughters to socialize or date. His fear of not having enough money fueled many spirited discussions with my Mom and his three kids and would consume him in his later years. My Dad was perfectly human with flaws and self-doubt. His influence was powerful whether he was sharing his wisdom with his Hindu Church community, family and friends or being critical when his children, grandchildren spent money without abandon. He was especially disapproving of my generous nature with money and my love. As children and young adults we felt the pressure of my Dad’s high standards for success and because we rarely received accolades we were never quite sure he was proud of us or loved us as we perceived other fathers did with their children. The truth is my Dad required so much of us because he wanted us to have a better life than he had. He always believed that each generation should evolve and achieve more than the previous one. ?

In October 2014, I gathered with my siblings at our parents’ home in Florida to celebrate my birthday. I watched my Dad as he completed his daily morning exercise routine and noticed he was unusually out of breath. I asked him about it and he quickly dismissed my concerns. My sister, an RN, had the tough conversations with our Dad imploring him to see his doctor. In January 2015 my Dad was diagnosed with Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. His diagnosis was not curative and one of his lungs was already scarred and damaged. Dad fought this diagnosis with every fiber of his being as he never smoked and our family history was more cardiac related. Dad was never a fan of doctors and the medical community eventhough his dream was to be a doctor in his younger years. Even with my nephew’s and his fiancée’s research and support, both physicians, my Dad refused to accept the diagnosis. Frank Sinatra’s song, “My Way” fully captured my Dad’s time after his diagnosis. He continued to live his life on his terms as his need for oxygen increased rapidly. We thought we had 3-5 more years with my Dad instead he transitioned on June 5th, 2015.

My Dad and I had many conversations through the years on various topics, some spirited and some transformational eventhough I did not know it at the time. One of those conversations would be about the soul and what happens when we die. I often times heard my Dad say, “the I that is speaking to you will never die.” Today I am a spiritual seeker learning more about my higher self (“D”) and my ego (“d”) and while I wish I could have more conversations with my Dad in person I know now his spirit lives in all of us. At the end of his life my Dad shared how proud he was of his children and grandchildren referring to us as “diamonds and gems.” His name for our Mom is “Star” as she was the light of his life. I know now with certainty my Dad loved us and his capacity to express that love was limited by how he was loved. I believe we are meant to be in the families we are born into, it is by divine design.

My Dad has redefined legacy for me as I learn more about the Bhagavad Gita, read other books and listen to spiritual teachers. He always teased my Mom that he would one day leave and become a yogi. The frontier he was not able to conquer was self-mastery, I suspect his soul continues on the path. Amongst the many gifts he gave us was a legacy of providing materially for his family and he also challenged us to do the internal work towards healing emotionally and spiritually. In the past seven years I have learned more about myself and the profound impact my Dad had on my life. I know more than ever he gave me his very best and this knowing has allowed me to love him without condition. I honor my Dad everyday by who I am being and forever grateful to be his daughter.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad!