Fathers Day Tribute – Scarred for Life by a Marvelous Dad
There is a story we all cherished to hear as kids, and that was the one about how my gallant Dad got his face filled with scars. I will narrate to you the storey at the finish of this tribute, a tribute to the greatest dad a young lady could ever have. His death at the early age of fifty four came in as a shock specially when his appointment for the infirmary was to get a plaster cast removed only to bring him dead in the waiting room.
Eventhough the parting of the ways was abrupt the fondest of memories has still held a powerful presence in my thoughts over the 26 years where I was proud to call him my dad. If I could reverse the clock back – I would tell him how sorry I was for the times I took him for granted but unluckily that self-reproach will be carried to my grave where I know being the good man that he was will be waiting for me at the pearly gates with open arms full of pardon.
The idea that comforted me and aided to relieve the resentment I felt was the one that goes “the good die young”.People interpret the word “special” in a lot of ways. So what do I see in my father that makes him to a greater extent special than the others?
Dad served in the armed forces for thirty-four years along side an army of Fathers Day Gifts. He was assigned in Hong Kong when this storey happened. The alarm system set into motion the evacuation of folks living outside the camp to look for safety in the camp immediately.
Eight of us were clustered into the rear of a 3 ton army wagon with pillows for protective covering and ordered to keep our heads down of which we obeyed – the Chinese riot mobs were appearing up from the entrenches that lined the route back to the barracks fully equipped with all kinds of killing instruments – 21 rocks came in the wagon on the journey back to camp.
The convoy of trucks that followed behind and stopped – now became burning wrecks.If a bombardment of boulders were hurtled into the back of the wagon – just what kind of state was the front of that vehicle in and that of the driver. Army officers didn’t give a medallion of courage to the driver. The reason was due to a technicality that he wasn’t suppose to drive that day so the acknowledgment was granted to the wrong man who was sitting up in front.
Until now, I still wonder if we could have prevailed that day were it not for the drivers who broke the rules in order to save us.
The outcome of that fearful day was a truck with no windshield a driver with no face and 8 living bodies that lived to recount the story – so now you have the conclusion to my story why those millions of pricks and scars, scarred us for life with exceptional memories of dear old dad.
