Honoring My Father with Love

Nothing could have prepared me for the moment I stepped into my father’s room in Iran. After a long journey from Calgary, I finally stood beside him. He was weak, in pain, and pale—but his eyes lit up when he saw me. That moment, that look, is something I will cherish forever.
I hugged him, held his hands, and he immediately noticed the marks on my skin, scars and burns from years of working in my bakery. He smiled and showed my hands to the nurse, saying, "I am proud of these working hands." That was my father—always recognizing hard work, always finding pride in the smallest things.
A few hours later, as we were still holding hands, I felt the warmth in his touch slowly fade. His journey on this earth had come to an end, and no matter what we did, we couldn’t bring him back. He had moved on to a better place.
For his memorial service, I wanted to honor him in a way that felt right. I made Sholeh Zard, a Persian saffron rice pudding that is sweet, fragrant, and comforting. It felt fitting to prepare it on the first day of Ramadan, a time of reflection and faith. I made a crazy amount—so much that even the manager of the venue was surprised. But I knew why. This was for my father.
Cooking this dessert, stirring the saffron-infused rice, and carefully decorating each portion felt healing. It was my way of saying goodbye, of expressing love the best way I know how--through food, through tradition, through something made with my hands.
Rest in peace, Baba. I will carry your love, your lessons, and your pride with me always.