ഇനി എത്ര ദൂരം

A Tribute to My Father-in-Law: A Father in Every Sense

It has been three months since you left us unexpectedly, and not a single day passes without your memory echoing in every corner of our home. They say every girl’s first and strongest support system is her father. That bond is special, irreplaceable. But for a married woman, there’s an additional space in her life where that fatherly support can reappear—sometimes in the form of a father-in-law. In my case, I was blessed beyond words to have had that bond, not just with my own father, but also with the man I proudly call my second father—my father-in-law.

I was born as the third child in a loving family with two older sisters. There’s an eight-year age gap between my eldest sister and me, and perhaps my parents hoped for a son when they decided to try again. But destiny had other plans and gave them another daughter—me. Despite the societal expectations and assumptions, I was cherished like no other. I became the most favorite child of my parents, raised with love, warmth, and freedom that perhaps my sisters were not always allowed. That bond with my father shaped me, and his support gave me wings.

So, when my marriage was arranged at the age of 22, my heart was filled with the same fear every girl experiences—how would I survive in a new house, with strangers, away from my family and my father’s comforting presence? I was stepping out of the only world I knew and entering another, not knowing what awaited me.

It was my father-in-law who saw me first during the marriage discussions. I still remember his calm eyes and warm smile. He liked me, and more importantly, he respected and accepted our humble background from a village near Kuttippuram, even though they hailed from the more developed Perinthalmanna town. On August 24, 2011, the day I entered their home as a bride, I realised that people like my father exist in other homes too. From that day forward, he wasn't my “father-in-law.” He was my father, my supporter, and my friend.

His presence gave me comfort. His guidance gave me strength. During my first pregnancy, it was he who often accompanied me to hospital visits. On the day of my delivery, the stress and effort he took upon himself were nothing short of what my own father would have done. He waited outside with the same tension, the same prayers, and the same care. His love was quiet but deep—felt through actions more than words.

He was the pillar of our family. The effort and dedication he showed in building such a beautiful, united home is truly admirable. He created a space where I never felt like an outsider. He never imposed restrictions on me; instead, he offered the kind of freedom that only comes from love and trust. Whether it was my personal growth, career decisions, or simply needing a listening ear, he was always there—like my father would have been.

Even in his last days, he never lost that warmth. Though hospitalized for what seemed like a simple fever, none of us knew those were his final days with us. I had the privilege of being with him during that time. I fed him, gently trimmed his nails—small acts of love he usually would shy away from. But that day, he let me care for him. It was as if, in those moments, he allowed me to give back a fraction of what he had given me all these years. That memory is now etched in my soul.

Three months have passed since he left us, and the house feels unbearably empty. My children still search for their beloved achachan. They miss his laughter, his stories, his presence. Our mother is silently lost without him—her partner, her support. My husband, too, struggles with the void left behind. He misses the man who had been his compass through every storm. And me—I still lie awake some nights, overcome with memories of him. His belief in me, his emotional strength, his gentle love.

Life without him is hard. But what he has left behind is a legacy of kindness, of fatherhood beyond blood, of support that knew no bounds. To the world, he was a father-in-law. But to me, he was Acha—my father in every sense of the word.

We miss you. We always will.

 

Mini. V. K.

Assistant Professor & Head 

Department of Commerce

Al Shifa College of Arts and Science, Perinthalmanna.

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