Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

I always greet this day with two emotions. One of happiness for Zobam and the fatherly role he plays for our children and so many other children. The same happiness holds for my brothers and uncles, mentors and friends, all of whom are fathers who in one way or another, color my life with happiness. Then there is the other emotion, one of great sadness that I will never say happy or father, to the one who named and framed me. They say fathers are supposed to be excellent managers of our times, supposed to be great messengers for joy, while at the same time be sterling mentors for life. They are not interested in all things people expect from us, like study hard, or play fair. Rather they listen, look too, but listen and somehow bring to fruition all the demands we ask of them. The person that you are, all of you, is what they love best, just as you are and it’s for this reason that not being able to say those words happy or father, fills me with so much sadness. I would still end the day with it, the happiness of a father. I have known it and I know it. Plus I still know it and see it every day. It’s the little things in the end that make this day worthy of being kept just as it is. Just as it should be.