Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I admire you the most of any man in this world.
And, here’s how…
*For leaving your home country of Iran and coming to the States as a wide-eyed teenager
*For marrying a blonde American woman to the chagrin of your Turkish/Persian strict parents
*For raising four children while pursuing a PhD in chemistry and working odd jobs like a gas station attendant when we were babies.
*For enduring the persecution of ethnic hostility during the hostage crisis.
*For supporting all of us through thick and thin as we grew up
*For having to say good bye to your youngest child and experiencing that pain
*For sharing your knowledge, stories, insight, and intellect with me
*For having an endless supply of love and laughter for your kids and grandchildren.
I’ll never forget watching my dad earn his doctorate at Wayne State University in Detroit. It was a proud moment. He was so handsome with the biggest grin and I remember him waving to us in the rafters as we watched him accept his diploma.
When I was a baby girl, I was daddy’s girl. Still am, actually; I think that never goes away. My dad would come home late and tuck me in at night. We’d look at the stars and say Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star together.
My memories of childhood are fond, especially when we lived in Iran as a whole family. We had no care, no TV, no phone, just life in a third-world country, and love carried us through. It was a simpler time when all we had to worry about was the Shah’s Savak spying on our family. Dad was a dean of students at Pahlavi University in Shiraz, and we had an endless stream of students clamoring for my dad’s attention.
My dad had a choice at various crossroads of his life, and I’m grateful he always chose us. I’m even more grateful he’s here in the flesh so my daughter can know Grampa.
I’m trying really hard to keep this light and not too sappy and that’s why the tone may be a tad abrupt. I’ve been fortunate more than most to know that whenever I needed anything at all I had only to turn to my parents for that support; that hasn’t changed, and I know it never will.
WE LOVE YOU, DAD. Thanks for giving me the gift of life.
