You were my best friend

For a brief moment in my life, my father was my best friend. An electronics engineer, he excelled at his job and never stopped tinkering in his attic room at home.

My earliest memories of him involve that chaotic room filled with computer parts and uncased machines. He taught me how to assemble computers from parts he brought home from work and guided me through the operating systems of that era, long before Windows existed. We spent countless weekends together, playing computer games and having endless fun.

But as a child, you don't always see the whole picture. Little did I know how deeply troubled my father was, struggling with alcoholism, which he hid well—until he couldn't anymore. During my teenage years, his behavior worsened, terrorizing our family, especially my mother and sister. Eventually, the situation became unbearable, and we found the courage to leave him.

For years, I blamed myself, thinking my lack of attention caused his downfall. It wasn't until much later that I learned he had his own demons, stemming from a troubled childhood. I never talked to him as an adult, I never got ask him what haunted him, why he became the way he was. The negativity overshadowed everything, and I never gave him a chance. But then again, neither did he. Twenty years passed without seeing him again. I can imagine how immense the torment must have been.

The day my second child, my son was born, I received a call from the notary informing me that my father passed away. The timing was surreal, casting a shadow over my happiness and leaving me confused.

Recently, in seeking guidance, I confronted my unprocessed feelings about my father. After years of numbness towards him, I finally allowed myself to feel and understand. I processed and accepted the situation as it was.

This wise person who was guiding me, told me that we are 50% our mother and 50% our father. Discarding one part means discarding half of ourselves. Realizing this, I acknowledged how much I resemble my father and embraced it. This knowledge helped me understand my strengths and weaknesses more than before.

While I'll never forget the horror caused, I now understand there were deeper issues at play. I forgive you, father. And I also want to thank my mother, the strongest woman I've ever known, for guiding me through a huge part of my adult life and helping me shape into who I am today.

I learned from my father's mistakes the hard way. It's unfortunate he never learned from them. The day we left him, I made a promise to myself and my mother that I would never become like him. In some ways, I am like him, but I will never follow in his footsteps.

Now, with two young children of my own, I see much of myself in them—both the traits that make me happy and those that drive me crazy. Can I blame them for any of it? They are, after all, 50% me.

I cherish spending time with my children, teaching them all I know about life, even if it's just a fraction of what they'll need. I am committed to being their father, guide, companion, and friend for as long as I live.