Happy Father's Day To All

To all our fathers, biological or adopted, with us or departed

The great Mark Twain once said, “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”

I remember reading this quote to my father when I had just turned 14. He laughed so hard he had to sit down. My father smiled often and laughed generously, but I’d honestly never seen him laugh like that—and I never forgot it. Now, as a father myself, I laugh too. Because Twain was right. And my father was far wiser than I ever gave him credit for at the time.

My father passed last year. It was his birthday two days ago. I am missing him immensely today, especially as the obvious realization further dawns on me that every year hence forth my Father’s Days will be not in spending time with him, but in remember him from behind a veil. A veil that separates this life from the next.

Above is the first photo we have together. I am about 15 months old as my father cradles my little brother in one hand and raises me above him in the other. The joy on his face is infinite. As a father myself I finally understand what joy he felt as he held two his his children close to him. It is paradise on Earth.

My three microqasims

He taught me everything I know. Everything about masculinity. About courage. About service to humanity. About faith.

He served his life as a missionary and an Imam. In today’s world, that is often seen as an indication of strict and intolerant upbringing. On the contrary, it is because of his service as a missionary and Imam that I was able to learn firsthand that true faith means service to and love all humanity. And that love is not just a word, but an action. And that anything less than that is not faith, but ego.

I will always cherish the cold winter days between Christmas and New Years in the Chicago suburbs when he would take us with him to distribute boxes of chocolates to our neighbors. When he would open the mosque to invite our fellow Christians, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, and Sikhs to join in interfaith dialogue. When he would push us out the door for park cleanups, food drives, and clothing drives. When he would ensure we meaningfully contributed to charitable causes—because faith without works is dead. When he would remind me over, and over again that if service to humanity isn’t at the forefront of everything I make of my life, then whatever I am doing is ultimately a fantastic waste of time.

This Father’s Day, I am filled with gratitude for the joy of being a father, and with grief in losing mine. He would’ve been 76 on June 19. I carry him with me every day—in how I raise my children, how I love my family, how I try to live with principle, patience, and prayer. I pray I can do him justice by carrying his legacy forward with dignity.

To every father and father figure—thank you. And to every single mom out there doing double duty, I see you and celebrate you too. This day belongs to you as well.

Happy Father’s Day,

Qasim