It’s been so many years since my dad passed away and I still find it tough to believe that we lost him at such an early age. I think it’s because of this that I have such a tough time talking about my experiences with him and have those memories locked inside of me somewhere special. When mom was here last week, I started reminiscing and then realized halfway through my story that talking about this is easier than keeping it locked up. Also, it makes her smile, could there be a better reason to do it than just that?

I’ve started swimming again.

I’ve lived in Florida for about 9 years now and have hardly taken advantage of the sun and fun right in my backyard. Recently I started swimming because running has not only gotten a bit monotonous but also tough on my knees and lower back. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not quitting running, just adding variety to my workout routines.

Jumping in the pool for the first time after so long sparked a memory, a memory which seemed to be hidden so deep down under an undiscovered coral reef. I was at the Aquatic Center in Barbados, must have been about 9. I remember mom and dad had signed up to learn how to swim. They brought me along one day to see if I liked it so I could start as well. How thoughtful my parents were to teach us how to swim. I mean, coming from India, Dubai, wherever … they really went out of their way and knew EXACTLY what to do for their children. I hope I’m as good as a parent as mine were/are to me.

At the end of the class the instructor told everyone to tread water in the deep end of the pool for as long as we could, and that we should at least hit the 5-minute mark. I remember competing against my dad. Although, I’m not sure if he was competing with me or not, I was trying really hard to win. My arms and legs moved faster and faster under water as the time went by, I kept watching my dad to see when he would stop, when he would give up. He didn’t. He was in great shape for a man his age. He never drank, smoked, nothing. An occasional glass of wine maybe but nothing more than that. Eventually my dad gave in at about 6 minutes I think, and I felt like a champ but I kept going. My dad cheered me along and did his typical Sindhi “Wha Wha!” translating into “Look at that, that is awesome! Good job!”. I went on for about another 4 more minutes and then gave up, exhausted. I felt victorious; “I’m better than my dad at this.” I thought.

So today, I dove into the pool after so long and did my laps. I found myself in the deep end of the pool and smiled at the memories this simple space sparked. I started treading water. Treading for life as though I had a point to prove. I couldn’t do it. I’m not 9 anymore I thought. Also, I’m not completely healthy at this moment either. I smiled, my dad was so amazing.

I miss him.