I can still picture my poor father as the effect of cancer slowly worked its way through his body. My dad, once an excellent physical specimen of health was now being slowly eaten away by the disease, he always believed that his body was a temple and thus took good care of it. Such a cruel jest of the gods to play on such a noble character. Half a year ago to this day father was diagnosed with stomach cancer. He took it all in his stride like a martyr urging us to stay together and be strong, I marveled at his spiritual strength as the rest of our feelings were torn to shreds by the news, I vowed to try to be as strong as him.
After enduring months of painful radiation and cocktails of drugs, dad was left a mere shadow of the man he used to be. The treatment had prematurely aged and weakened him, if that wasnt enough the doctor announced that the treatments were ineffective and dads condition had deteriorated, the cancer had spread to his liver. This was the straw that broke the camels back for my dear mother. She lost her composure and broke down in tears, we all did except for dad. He never flinched, as cool as a cucumber just another hurdle in his way. Dad seemed more concerned about us than himself.
As we began to come to grips with the reality of fathers situation, we gradually settled into making his ward our home. One day the monotony of hospital television was broken by a hoarse whisper Son.. my dads lips ached as he spoke and motioned me to move closer. Help your old man look for the photo mugs you gave me... do you remember it? Go home and bring it here. My mind went blank for a second then a myriad of memories came flashing back. How could I have forgotten about the mug, the white china mug carrying our portrait on it with the simple words thanks dad that carried a far deeper meaning than those two simple words.
The story of the mug was a simple one. My parents had attended my convocation and my mum cajoled us to take a photo together. So we took one, just the two of us, father and son. A rare occasion for a man more comfortable being the creator of such pictures. It was an awkward but nonetheless happy situation as my father was more than a little camera shy. The warmth of the sunshine that day could not compare to the warmth I felt from both my parents, dad especially looked like he had just hit the jackpot. I could feel his pride at watching me step up to accept my scroll, suma cum laude. As the euphoria of the moment began to pass, I decided to do a little something so dad could remember our happiness on that day. I went out to the local mall and made a personalized photo mug using our photograph together which sells a variety of other stuff such as personalized baptism photo mugs, custom firefighter coffee mugs and so on.
I am not what you would call a giving person, I regret that now and have changed somewhat. But I think that only helped to heighten dads joy at receiving my gift. He too was silent for a moment as I broke his daily routine of television watching not knowing what to make at first of the mug that was thrust into his hands. He uttered the words thanks then turned back to his show, it was only later that I noticed him smiling fondly as he fingered it. In the glow of the fading evening light, I realized that he truly appreciated the gift. When the son finally gives instead of receiving then he has begun to be a man. The personalized photo mugs was my first significant gift to dad, I remember thinking, why didnt I get him a fancy hand phone or a gold chain instead, but now looking back the mug with the two of us in a goofy embrace was more than adequate.
Yup that old personalized reunion mug certainly meant a lot to dad. As I took the mug to him at the hospital, dad flashed a smile at me that practically lit up the room. Son he said When you were born both your mom and me had no clue how to take care of a baby. You were our biggest challenge and also my greatest accomplishmentweve been through a lot of ups and downs together, but on the day you got your scroll I knew we had succeeded and done a good job. A son reflects the father and I am truly proud to be reflected in you, youve become a fine young man who will go on to do far greater things than his old man. At this point I could feel the warmth of the tears involuntarily rolling down my cheeks, dad looked and me and smiled knowingly and I smiled back understanding, he was telling me his job was done and it was almost time for him to take that big bus up to the sky. That moment will always be frozen and framed in my memory forever.
A fortnight later my dear father finally breathed his last breath. He had fought a good fight and had dealt with all his earthly problem, no regrets. I brought our special mug to the funeral then I stored it back where dad had always kept it. My mind was at ease, he was in a better place free from all pain and suffering and Im sure he was smiling down on me proudly from somewhere.
