Birthday’s right around the corner. It’s one of these days that always makes me think back to how things were and speculate about how they could go from here. Who’s to say, really?
This birthday makes me officially older than my dad. He died when he was 33, and I’m becoming 34. I will be older than he ever was. Strangely, this simple fact makes me think about so many things.
One of the realizations I’ve had is that he had me when he was 27. When I was 27, I was struggling with my Master’s degree. There was no vision of me getting married anytime soon, much less having kids. But he did have me. Of course, then he did some things that I personally consider stupid and ended up dying alone, but that’s a story for another time.
Traditionally, in my culture, people would focus on learning a trade, finding a well-paying job, getting married, and settling down. And that would be it. Buy a flashy car (to bring pride to your friends and envy to your enemies), buy a house (to take care of your family), take care of your parents (to show that you’ve been brought up properly), have at least a couple of kids (so that they may take care of you when you’re old). This is the typical life that is expected from a Boyash.
Oh yeah, I’m a Boyash.
The thing is, most people are shown how to do these things by example. Unfortunately, the person who was supposed to set many of these examples was not that responsible, and also died when I was 6. My mom, who took care of me, bless her heart, has gone above and beyond to provide absolutely everything for me. Even at the cost of leaving me with her parents while she was working 3 jobs at the same time abroad.
So I kinda had to always wing it. Figure it out as I go, in a way. I would look around me, see what people do, and think to myself whether that is something that I want to do. Many examples I would follow, many others I would avoid. But, to my surprise, only recently I realized that there has always been another question that I would ask myself all the time, implicitly.
Is this something that I can do?
I would always find myself in this state of mind where I would stop myself. How could I think of achieving something I was not meant to? No one else had ever done anything like that. Who am I to do that? How can it even be possible? Me, a scared, stupid kid with no knowledge of the world, coming from a tiny village in the middle of a country unable to keep its youth, with some of the worst possible father figures and no actual father.
That’s what they told me.
It never really mattered to me that I didn’t meet my dad. Well, I did meet him, but all the memories are blurry. And nothing pretty, really. One of the best memories I have from him is the two of us in a bus in Russia, rushing home with a pack of ice cream. The ice cream was packed in a tinfoil package, like butter, and it was hot outside, so it was melting and running on my hands. We were rushing to get home before it melted, and for some reason that memory stuck with me. The other (few) memories I have from him are some sort of domestic violence, so not really worth mentioning here. But the thing is, not having so many memories of him turned out to be a good thing, actually, because I never felt that void that I am guessing other people feel. He was never in the picture, so I never missed him.
So whenever people would feel sorry for me not having my dad around, I wouldn’t really understand why. I couldn’t see how this is a handicap for me. Because of this, I would just do whatever I considered best, and just get on with my life as I could. I always had my mom by my side, and she’s got bigger balls than all the men I’ve met combined, so there’s that also. She’s always supported me and believed in me, no matter how crazy or selfish my plans would be.
When I told her that I’m planning to go to another country alone to study — she said “Sure. Let me know if you need anything”.
When I told her I plan to return to that same country for a masters — “Sure, this is good for you. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise”.
When I told her I’m going to a different country for a doctorate — “Sure, but please think about marriage, you’re almost in your thirties now”.
When I told her I’m planning to move to the other part of the world — “How can I stop you? Do whatever your heart tells you”.
Is it because I am Boyash? Is it because I have no direction? Is it because no one showed me what or how I should do things? I don’t know why, but there is a very literal feeling for me that “the world is my oyster”.
People tend to ask me “So, where is home?”. Then they list all the countries where I’ve been. Then they ask me “So, is it permanent here?”.
Permanent. How can it be permanent? When has it ever been permanent? How can it ever be permanent? Nothing is permanent. We are not permanent. And I stubbornly refuse to tie myself up to any one place and label it “the most important place”.
Home is not a place.
Home is a person.
Home is a feeling.
Home is knowing that no matter what happens, when the shit hits the fan, you are not alone. Home is knowing that you can be your most vulnerable self ant not feel weak. Home is putting someone else before yourself and your selfish needs. Home is family.
So, nowhere is permanent, and home is everywhere.
But still the question remains: what is next?
Who knows, really?
From a snotty little brat that used to play in the dusty old streets of a non-existent village to one of the top executives of an AI startup. Five countries later. Five and a half languages later. Thirty-four years later. Several mental breakdowns later. So many mistakes later.
What counts really in the end?
Is it the titles? The fact that I can now put “Doctor” in front of my name? Is it the salary that I’m getting paid? The connections that I’ve made? Is it the pride that my mom feels (as she says) for “showing everyone that I can do anything”? Is it the shame that I should feel (according to others) for “abandoning my family and being selfish”?
I’ve never cared for all that stuff. I’ve always only wanted to be happy. And I keep saying that, but for some reason people fail to understand what I mean. I guess that’s OK, but really — titles, money, people’s opinions, it really means nothing to me, personally. In the end of my life, I want to look back and think to myself “well, that was worth it”. Me, not anyone else.
So yeah, tomorrow I’ll be older than my father ever was. He made me. I’m not sure yet what I will do. The only hope that I have is to make my mother proud. Perhaps to set an example for my little sister and show her that she, too, can do absolutely anything she sets in her mind. To take care of these two people that keep me going. To share this whole journey with the one that welcomes me when I come home, and tells me to come home safe when I leave. To make it all worth it.
Sounds like a plan, I guess.
Happy birthday, kid.
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