FAMILY WINS

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My father was a carpenter, he was a very strict man. He always wanted me to take over his workshop. But my heart and mind was somewhere else.

I loved books, as a child, I would sit under the tree at our backyard and write stories in my notebook. My father would see me and say, “Books will not feed you, woods will.” He taught me how to cut planks and hold a saw.

When I finished my secondary school, I had made up my mind that I wanted to study Literature, it was what I wanted.

“Literature? You want to waste your life reading useless books when your mates are doing real works?”

“Dad, its not useless. I want to be a writer, maybe a teacher.”

“You think I suffered all my life to watch you end up as one broke writer?” We argued till nighttime and when I woke up the next morning, I found my father packing my bags, while my mother tried to calm him down.

“So you would throw away your only son because he doesn’t want to be a carpenter?” I asked in disbelief.

“If you are going to stick up to that stupid dream, don’t ever come back.” So I left.

Years later, I got admission into the university. My mother helped me on the side while I got a part time job to make it easier.

Six years passed by and after school, I got a job at a publishing company. I helped edit books, wrote stories and slowly began to make a name for myself. I even wrote a book of my own. Until when I got the call from my mother.

“My boy, your father is very sick. He has a stroke, it caught him 2 months ago. If you can, please come home.”

I had not seen my father in six years. I knew I had to see him.

“Daniel, you came. Your father will be happy.”

“How is he?”

My mother sighed, “He’s not talking. The doctor said there is nothing more he can do about it.”

Our house was still the same, our family picture and the table my father and I had made years ago was still there.

I was unable to move as I saw him in a wheelchair, he looked frail and weak, ad thinner than I had last seen him.

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“Dad…” I knelt down, holding his cold hands. “Dad, its me, Daniel. I’m so sorry.” His mouth shook as he tried to say something. “Its okay, you don’t have to say anything.” I placed my head on his lap as I tried not to cry.

I helped my mother with the chores and everything she needed. I told my father all my accomplishments, and I even read some of my books to him.

“D-Daniel…”

“I’m here. Is there anything you need?”

“I-I was never angry that you chose to follow that path. I was afraid, son. I did not want you to go through want I went through. I’m sorry.”

“No, dad. I should have listened to you. This shouldn’t have happened if I was here, if I had taken over the shop.”

“You’re not wrong, son.” His hand I held went limp and I knew one thing, even if I tried not to accept it.

“Dad! Dad! Wake up, please. Please, no…you can’t do this.”

The burial was small. Some relatives came and left, wishing their condolences. But none actually stayed.

“I spent years waiting for him to apologize to me, mum. I didn’t know that…he was waiting for me too. Now he…is it my fault?” We had lost 6 years of spending time together to pride. And now, I wished I had never left the house.

Maybe if I had stayed, he would not have had the stroke, he would have been healthy. I would have taken care of both of them. We would have been happy.

“It’s no ones fault, son. Not a day goes by that your father doesn’t talk about you. He even bought and read one of your books. He wanted you to be happy, and only after you left did he realize that you found your place.”

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I took care of the shop during my stay in town, and hired some boys to look over the place as I moved back to the city. I wanted to take my mother to the city with me but she insisted on staying and I visited whenever I had time.

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