Dear Zakhar pt. 2

I will always remember the face of the most beautiful boy born out of the most beautiful woman on the day of your birth. Your mother was mad that I left her to go home and rest because it was five in the morning, and at seven you started to show signs of coming out. Your mother was in so much distress and all I could do was stop and stare, hold her hand, and fight the good fight. And when you came out, you did not cry, you did not even bother entertaining us fools to worry. You were calm and collected. Now you are so proactive and full of life. I could not be more prouder of being your father.

Your mother's relationship with me is so sublime and full of life. You at the very deserve part of our own story as much as you deserve yours, which I am going to share with you now.

I felt the same exact feeling with her the same exact feeling I had with you when you were born when we met in Alanya. You could say that I could pinpoint the exact moment of when I fell in love with her, when we went to a Starbucks not far from our hotel, and the light shone past her face as I took a photo of her with my Leica. This woman is pure beauty and class, I thought. At that moment, I could never believe this woman was in front of me, so I kept telling myself there is absolutely no way this woman and I will ever become a couple. Every single moment that I spent with her only contributed to this sentiment. There was a nagging feeling in my head that nothing of value would come out of this union. In a few days, I would go back to London and she to Ukraine and that was it. We would move on from our lives. I thought, it would not be feasible to engage with someone romantically who was a) the most beautiful woman b) she would not be able to stomach my way of living c) long distance relationship will only deteriorate our companionship. In those early days, my insecurities only compounded knowing I could never satiate her needs. I could never be her "hero", because I myself was hampered by my own lack of... well, a lot of things. Prior to us meeting, we have already shown signs for lack of chemistry, so to speak. She would be angry at me and I would defend myself and it only exacerbates the longer we went on. I was even so surprised she came to Turkiye after all. This is the thing when we do not get along: I cannot tell you the specifics at all as to how or why these things happened because I cannot even fathom or remember absolutely anything. It is usually my nature to compartmentalise difficult moments in my life, to take it all in and work on fixing it immediately, and I do not remember because I could not care less why we argued, just that I know I love her enough to say I can ignore all of this and hope everything works out well sooner or later. I have never been good with people. I cannot stand being with people. Maybe it is because of this that I decided to lean on to your mother's good graces a bit too much, albeit knowing we might not be compatible as a couple after all. I keep seeing that goodness in her that I just fear losing it, because I know I never deserved it. Because of my prior dealings with myself and the unforeseen circumstances in my life outside of my control, it was a recipe for disaster when your mother decided to tell me that she wanted to come to London to be with me. Obviously, there was a huge part of me that was elated, but a bigger part of me that was just dreading the thought of it. Overcome by my insecurities, I struggled to weigh the option of letting her in to my life, but I knew that it would be best because of what was happening in Ukraine. At the very least, I thought, she would be much safer, and she did not have to be alone.

She will see my life, an open mask, the whole situation of my life, naked to her eyes, and I knew right then and there that it was only a matter of time she will resent me for it. You will probably start thinking: did I really mislead her? Did I? I really cannot say. All I know is that she needs to be safe, she was loved, even if the love I had for her was insecure. She will hate the living conditions. She will complain about this and that. So what I decided to do was to figuratively remove the mask I was wearing and put on an artificial one. My plastic face.

When she finally arrived, my fears soon realised, but I had to keep my mask straight. I had to convince her that it was all temporary, that things will actually be better, that she should not worry about anything, emotional or financial. I had to keep her faith up high at all times, all for the sake of a better future. Meanwhile, the plastic face soon reared its ugliness because the facade, I know, will soon fade. Magic is all a trick of the mind. The bus stops eventually, and I knew for sure that my fears were only a matter of time.

We could have avoided a lot of things had I only been more transparent, but I cannot trust myself with your mother in situations like these, because I knew that my insecurities will emerge victorious. I could only tell her not to worry so many times in my life. I will handle it, I will fix it, I will take responsibility for it. But I cannot tell her why, because if I did tell her why, then it becomes her problem to bear. That to me was not fixing it, the shit piles up, and along with it resentment, frustration, anger, compounded with our completely opposite-spectrum personalities constantly clashing. I would make light of a situation in a jovial manner, and she would not appreciate my lack of maturity. I would be serious as a cardiac arrest and hold my tongue, and she thinks I am mad at her. This redundancy would carry on for months on end. She would have left me already sooner had you not arrived in our life, so I am glad at the very least to spend the very beginning of your life before you were completely bolted from mine absent of choice.

Outside of my own insecurities, I also had to juggle with hers, which was, I thought, constantly bouncing from wall to wall. My job as a chef in a restaurant here in London did not help when sometimes I have to miss a huge chunk of our life better spent together than apart. Then I am exhausted, then I become lazy, then I become complacent most days and nights. It is not something I take pride in, so you should learn from my mistakes.

I could always say I should have handled things better, but here we are now. Probably the worst state I have ever been in my entire life. This does not even compare even to other worst moments of my life. I lost my mother a few years ago and never shed a tear. My heartaches are selective, fickle to a fault, and always lacking of charm. I do not know what exactly happened to me to be who I am, but I can say for sure that all of this was self-inflicted. Years ago, before your mother, I lost two offsprings that could have been your brothers or sisters. It was then that I realised that I knew I had to be a good parent, a good father, a good person even. I tried so very hard to maintain the facade still. Truth is, I am pitifully a massive failure of a human being. To pretend otherwise is lying to myself. A bad son, a bad brother, a bad partner, a bad cousin, a bad friend, a bad person. There is no denying any of this now. I will always fail at everything because it is my nature to. So perhaps the best course of action is to walk away completely, to save whatever good is left in this world. You would probably hate me too eventually if you actually spent two minutes with the real me. It did not take your mother all her brain capacity to realise that there is no effort to be had to fix things. Me disappearing now, I am sure, really is discretely a blessing to you and your mother both. So do not be mad at her that this happened, love her with all you can, because she needs it, and I need you to. If you ever need anything of me, your titka Kayki will serve as my middlewoman in my stead. She will always guide you with whatever you need, bar from what your mother cannot. My pension pot is yours to take in time, and yours to use, and use it well. A small consolidation for my absence. One day you should take some time to find your roots, to answer some of the lingering questions you have in your mind. Perhaps it will never give you the satisfaction you need or crave, but it will give you some sort of reprieve knowing that you will always have a place of belongingness if you so choose. As for me, all I ever want is the best for you and your mother both. With lots of love. Always and forever.