Some things my father told me:My Egyptian father told me not to smoke. And that biting my nails was really unattractive. My father told me I was an artist. He bought me all the art supplies I wanted. My father told me I would never die from a broken heart. My father surprised me when he said he thought I was independent, unknowingly challenging my self concept because it came at a time when all I'd been aware of was my need. My father sometimes called me Aziza, an Arabic endearment meaning dear. When I was competing at the Ontario Championship games in high school my father took the day off work and along with my younger brother, Kareem, came to watch. He witnessed my winning, record breaking discus throw, a high point in my young life, and proudly recounted the event to my mom that night. As a family my father took us to the Rosicrusian Order and he expanded my awareness of the world to include mystical teachings. As an adult I told my father that I learned my first lessons in generosity at the dinner table when, without fail, he and my mother gave the last portion of food to us children if we wanted it. Having this silent act of love unknowingly witnessed and unexpectedly affirmed moved him to tears.
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