The Simple things in life

In October 2002, I split up from the love of my life and wife. Not only that, I was torn away from my 3 and 1 year old babies. Over the next 12 months, I was going through the most devastating period in my entire life. Fortunately, I found the strength to make sure that my boys experienced as little of their parents bitterness. In that time, my eldest son, Hamza, could 'feel' my emotions regardless of how well I tried to hide it. You see, he and I have always been very close.

We managed to make as much time for each other when they were with me. For the first time in my life, I got to experience the simple things that I'd not experienced with my own parents. We would always have meals together and make it a fun time. We would have races together on the way to the park; at the park and on the way back. My eldest is very competitive, whilst the younger one is more laid back. We would go swimming together and play games in the pool. I would tell them bed-time stories that I would make up as I would go along. They absolutely loved the stories over any children's books - probably because the heroes were always my two boys.

I'd also make a guest appearance in their story. Their mum would occassionally appear as a damsel in distress or Princess who they'd save from the clutches of the evil people from the dark side!

Even with all this going on, I kept questioning myself if I was a good enough dad. Was I being the best that I could be? Would I be that role model that they deserve? Would I be that superhero that I used to imagine my dad to be? In fact, was I just plainly good enough?

One evening, as my boys were climbing onto their bunk beds, Hamza said something that left me stumped for words (not something that happens to a professional speaker very often!) Whilst on his bunk-bed ladder, he turned his head round and looked me straight in the eyes and said,

"Abu (means 'dad')! You know how we can't always be with each other every day? Well, remember this: wherever I go, you are always in my heart."

I was gob-smacked. He was only four years old at the time. I then realised that, even though I did not teach him those words, I must have done something right in nurturing him to enable him to express his feelings like that. Perhaps, I am an OK dad after all. Maybe even amazing.

Harun Rabbani