My Father - my best friend
He has passed my life as quickly as he crossed it. When I was only seven he took his things and moved away to establish a new family to share his love with them. From that time I have been seeing him once a month because he could not find more time for me. Even if I tried with all my power I had not known how to love him but I even did not want to. The solely figure of my father I can remember from my childhood is a posture of a tall handsome and tanned man who did not remember about my birthday and bought me presents for Christmas Eve. I have never experienced the real father's protection or feeling his strong hand holding mine when I was afraid - the things I desired from my early infancy.
But everything changed when a misfortune haunted my mother. She fell in an incurable illness, a bone cancer, and the doctors did not give her much more time to life if she had not been applied an extremely expensive therapeutics which she had not had enough funds for. And here my father appeared with his helpful hand. Not even did he give the money but also stayed with my mom during the hardest days. His indifference turned into a big interest, the aridity of his attitude started being the precious gift for me. He could look at the whole situation with a closed eye and not panic like I used to do. He taught me how to be tough in this world of cruelty.