Frozen Time: A Tribute to My Dad !
Memories are like fragile treasures, and some remain etched in our hearts, even when time fades their details. This is my story, a dedication to the faint, precious glimpses of my childhood and to the man I call "Duddy"—my father, whom I never truly got to know.
It was the early 90s, perhaps 1992 or 1993. Two little sisters, ages 4 and 5, dressed in cream coloured layered frocks and tiny white and red shoes, eagerly waited for their favourite adventure. One sat at the front of the bike, clutching the handlebars, her small hands barely covering them, while the other perched on the pillion seat. The bike was a Jawa, and the rider—a tall, fair, and handsome man with a proud moustache—was none other than their father.
He would take us to a park in a nearby Defence colony in Saintala, a small town that still holds pieces of our family’s story. I can still feel the wind on my face and the sound of laughter as we rode through those streets, as if the moment was frozen in time.
This memory stands alone in my mind, like a single photograph framed in my heart. It’s the only connection I have to him—a man I never got to truly know, as he passed away when I was just 5 years old. But even in his absence, he has been a constant presence in my life. I feel his blessings guiding me, pushing me to achieve more, to reach higher.
Though I don’t remember his voice or his touch, I feel his spirit in every milestone I cross. I often find myself going back to that day, imagining the warmth of his smile and the strength of his love. In my heart, he remains my inspiration, my guiding star, and the rider of that frozen memory.
I still dream of the day he could come back, riding that same Jawa, to take me on another adventure. Until then, I hold onto that sweet, frozen moment—a memory that keeps him alive in my heart.
Love you, Duddy. You are, and always will be, my greatest inspiration. :)
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