Memento From My Father

This is my first story. It is about a man who never really understood his own Father up until he finds his journal.

This will be my first story, I hope you will like it.

(Memento from my Father)

It was dusk and I picked up all the remaining items or should I say packing of mine in order to settle in this new apartment. I was 23 at that time and I was working part-time as a doctor in a local hospital near the outskirts of Rotterdam. Before that I used to live with my grandparents who are miraculously still alive. I’m glad to have them by my side. Both my grandmother and grandfather were roughly around their late 70’s and were also particularly active in sports. My mother passed away while giving birth whereas my father was a war general and also passed away when I was 15 due to some illness. My father used to take care of me frequently as I was the only child and the sole survivor who would resemble my mother. After his death, I was all alone until my grandparents took me in as one of their own. But no matter how hard they tried to take care of me, I was just emotionless. My senses were not working and I had seemed to lose all interest regarding the world for 3 years after my Father’s death. Once I reached high school, I overcame my trauma and started to work hard for my career as I progressed with flying colors with which I was able to attain admittance in a good university with scholarship here in Netherlands. My grandparents were proud of me, of course, but I did not stop yet. I forgot all about my parents and started to yearn for knowledge as a madman would have a lust for power. Once graduated, I finally became at ease and started my part-time job at the local-hospital. It was there when I decided to shift so that I could become more independent.
While I was bringing in my belongings towards my new apartment, I stumbled across an old memorandum or a journal of sorts in my belongings. I did not knew that a journal was there in my belongings as this box was placed as it is in my closet with no labels or names or stamps in my previous abode. Just a plain box. While I took this out, the following inscriptions were on the front of the journal ” My allegiance is solely towards God Almighty and no-one else. I shall never kneel and I shall never rest until I reach the depths of my grave. This life is nothing but a passive test, where you shall be choked on your own demise. Onward I match towards the sacred battlefield, where the mere powers are proven to end the madness, upon I shall take it to crush the existence of the lifeless black souls. Everyday is war and I shall strive to protect my son who is now the only ray of hope in my life. If steel is my body and fire is my blood, then I shall prove it to face the world’s wrath.” These inscriptions triggered an electricity inside me. A flame of willpower was erupted with which sheer motivation and willpower flowed through my veins. I did not knew that my Father was such an amazing writer. In the bottom right corner was his name inscripted” General Christopher Charles Dante II “. The words on the front journal were giving shades of gold. As I opened it, the first page was regarding the Vietnam War and it described him being stationed in one of the Allied Forces during the final years of the war. Luckily, he survived all impact from the communist forces and was a deputy commander at that time during the final years of the war. Once it was over, my father returned to the United States (his birthplace) where he and 11 other soldiers were the sole survivors of his battalion where he then retired and shifted to Netherlands. That is where he met my mother, I wonder how she would look like. Nonetheless, I turn pages just to find something interesting and that is where one page caught my attention. It was about a moral. Not just any other entry. But a special one. Roughly two months before my birth. The year was 1997. 6th of March as I was born in 1st of January.
With immense curiosity, I start to read with my eyes focused on the journal only and oblivious of the world around me.
” It is now 22:00 as I write these words sitting in a cold room with immense light but no gas which my aching body is yearning for. With no hot water and gas, my bones rattle to their core due to the absence of heat.
Nonetheless, writing is becoming somewhat of my passion starting from yesterday and no matter how hard I resist, I find myself deeply intrigued with my own thoughts. Thoughts of money, love, power, honor , justice and other worldly stuff which exists in this man-eating battlefield called ‘Earth’. But today, romance has got the best of me at the moment. The sole power of bringing two people of opposite genders together.
Love. This mere word. What does it actually mean? What is this thing of attraction called ‘Love’ between humans and mammals alike? Is it a force by which it is equivalent to the attraction of positive and negative charges, North and South Poles? Or is it just a mockery of respect? Some just go for the looks , the appearance , the figure as I had found these mostly in fiction but there are rather very few or should I say ‘rare’ cases where a starstruck love between people like so-called ‘Romeo and Juliet’ ever happened.
Imagine the opposite gender standing in front of you, or should I call her a woman or female and your heart starts to race above your normal rate where your pupils constricts, your hair dilate with which you get goosebumps, you breathe unevenly and your eyes fall for her attractive or rather floral figurine with such tender chests, hands and bosom. You then reach for her blossoming lips with which when you taste, your nerve impulses command you to run wild whereas you control your hunger and thirst by patiently kissing her sweet, tender lips. The aroma which further stimulates your ecstasy drives you into doing more while you taste her lips which comes with a combined flavors of peaches , grapes , strawberries and blueberries, This drives you further into going deeper within the body as you search for hidden treasures resulting in pure joyfulness and the so-called thing called ‘Love’ in this eroticism.
Or you would prevent this treacherous path and look for the personality of her so that you can become one with the soul without ever changing your state of excitement. Moreover, you think of that person more as someone who you can deeply trust rather than the usual idea of treating him/her as a playmate of all sorts. What if I told you that you can even fall for the eye colors as the blue iris resembles the beautiful sky and the tender ocean whereas the green one reminds you of the greenery of the forests and trees and last but not the least, the hazel brown which gives you a glimpse of the autumn season and the mountains of the world.

Let me tell you something, dearest. Everyone who tends to ‘Love’ you are actually waiting for the right moment to stab you in the back for you are here to suffer and rot in this world. Except, for a select few people who are truly your allies.

I tried to find this meaning of this ‘Love’ but it turns out, it is a degraded form of loyalty and respect. The only people who ‘love’ you are those who care for you more than their own needs. It would be suitable... No, accurate to say that my wife loved me and I did the same.
It is now 23:08 as my hands are aching and my eyes are screaming for rest as to prepare myself and my dearest son for another survival in this war. ”

With this, tears were running down my eyes. I read and read and read each and every entry of my father’s journal until the last page with which it finished with these words ” … So , here I lay. Passing unto my torch to my son at any moment. I only wish for him to surpass my sheer might and his mother’s intelligence. If my dearest son ever sees this, I shall request him to follow the teachings of Lord Almighty and become the prince of this world for I shall be waiting in the Hereafter, waiting to receive my glorious prince.”
I immediately got up, and ran towards the cemetery of Rotterdam with the journal on my hands. I went to the graveyard and searched for my Father’s grave frantically while the undertaker tried to get a hold of me and calmed me down. He asked me my name to which I answered” Christopher Charles Dante III “. He then took me to the center of the graveyard with which a faceless and hooded angel wielding a scythe was above my father’s grave. I then requested him to give me a moment to which he agreed and added that only for 30 minutes since it was near mid-night and the cemetery was about to close.
I sat on my knees, with moonlight illuminating the engraving on my Father’s grave with which an eagle was imprinted on his tombstone.
I cried loudly with the journal placed on my heart the following words” Praise to my Father who has suffered and faced the world’s wrath. Who has lived his life in battle to protect his only son. The son has now arrived, dearest Father. I shall now accept your passing of the torch to which I shall make sure I keep it illuminated. Forgive me for I had not known of your love to me as you were ever silent yet caring. I shall glorify your name and obey the commandments of Lord Almighty and make sure I visit you every single say.” These words came uncontrolled and straight from my heart as I felt more easy, relieved and happy to see my father again. Knowing he was with me all along. “Forgive me” I muttered these words repeatedly in front of his grave to which my tears has decorated it.
The undertaker placed his hand on my shoulder indicating that it is time.
I departed while emitting the following words “Until I return from the battlefield, dearest Father.”

© 2018 Danish Bin Sattar

Author's Note

First story. Please be gentle.
I hope to learn from the reviewers.

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Coyote Poetry

You did well. Use lighter print. Hard to read. I liked the history shared and the thoughts in the story. You create life, struggle and powerful ending. Sometime we cannot help but follow our father's path. I did. Thank you for sharing the amazing story and your thoughts.
Coyote