I believe my father.
My father is the person who formed my ideas and view of life. I remember nights that we used to spend talking. I miss my childhood mainly because of these talks.
But there was a special moment in my life when his support was essential to me. It was the moment when I, for the first time, seriously thought of death.
I was walking in the garden of my boarding school in a sunny day of autumn. My very first idea, when I was sure to die, was the relief that I had managed to get along with the classmate with whom I had always been competing. At that moment it did not sound silly to me. I was so happy to make it in time. Then I began thinking what else I managed to do in my entire life, and to my amazement I found nothing serious, nothing I could be proud of, nothing good as well as nothing bad.
Then I thought what would happen to my family whom I loved so much. I tried to send away that thoughts. Suddenly I realized that actually I did not want to die. The desire of life was so strong that I could not think of anything else. I could not believe that in the world there were people that wanted to die as strong as I struggled to live.
The next image in my mind was a memory from my childhood. I was in my room, going to bed. After the active day I felt asleep and could only figure out the silhouette of my father, telling me a fairy tale about a butterfly that became a symbol of hope and trust for a boy who fought in what he believed. The rest of that night I spent imagining that butterfly.
And at the moment of panic I remembered that butterfly and my father’s promise that it will keep coming every day. The speed at which time passes by scares me. Whenever I feel I am wasting my time I imagine tons of fine sand rushing on me. The hugeness of the stream scares me. But then I mentally stop the flow and try hard to imagine the beauty of every grain. For I remember my father’s words that I just need to stop and look around.
I believe my father. I believe that every second can be a gift of life.
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