My dad the cartoonist

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic


A daughter's remembrance of her dad..an unknown cartoonist

Submitted: August 16, 2018

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Submitted: August 16, 2018

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My  dad  the  cartoonist
My  daddy  was  a  cartoonist.  He  loved  to  draw  since  young. He  loved to read  comics and  his  room  was  full  of  comics  that  he  had  accumulated  since  his  younger  days.  He  ever  told  me  that  he  once  dreamt  of  going to an Art-College  to  further  his  art-studies, but he couldn't afford  it  because  it  was  too  damn  expensive.  His  parents,  my  grandparents  so  to  say,  were  not-those-rich  people. So  my dad  did  not go  to college.
He was  not  disheartened  though,  so  he  self-taught  himself  to be  a  good  artist. He  bought many  art-books  from  money he had  saved. From  those  books  he  learned and  studied  art . He  slept  late  every  night  and  kept  on drawing  even  though  he  felt tired .
"So  dad..you  taught  yourself art  because  you can't afford  college?" I  once  asked.
"Yes  Diana...that's  the  only thing  I  can do to  better  myself.." he  looked at  me  sadly.
Many times  I observed that  he  was  so dedicated  to his art  and stayed late  at nightuntil the present day. He  was  forty-eight then.
"Dad...have  you  ever  submit  your  work to any  mags  or  papers  to get your cartoons  published?" I sat beside him.
"I  did..but  you  know  nowadays...publishers  looked  for  guys with diplomas  or  deserving papers  in art  to get his  work published..I ever  looked for jobs  in  the  art-industries..but  they wanted  to  see  your papers  and not your experience  or skills...that's  what's  wrong.."  poor dad  he  looked  so sad when he said that. Although I'm not an  art-lover  myself  but  his  art  was truly something.
"Yah  I  know..but  you kept  late  nights  and..dad..you've  got  to rest  also...you're  not as healthy  as before.." I  had  to say that  due  to his  doctor's  advice. Dad  had leukemia..
His  illness  doesn't  bother  him and  people  wouldn't  believed that he  got the disease because he  was  always  bubbly  and  jokes  around  everytime  we  congregate. Maybe to hide his illness  or maybe  not  to let  us worry.
"Nobody  wants  to read  my cartoons  Diana..but I will not stop  drawing  cartoons  until my last breathe...I know  my cartoons were not as  good as those guys  out there.." he lamented.
"Don't say that dad....we  love your cartoons..we will  read  your cartoons..." I assured  him.
Time passed. It was  already  a  year  since dad died. I entered  his  room  as  always. Mum  had  warned me not to  disturb  his  cartoons  or  comics  or  moved anything that  belonged to him . There  were  hundreds  of them  stacked neatly on the rack without  anyone  ever  touching  it.
I  took  onefile  inside  the drawer andslowly  flipped inside  it. There were  many drawings that he had  done  just before  he died.
In one of the drawings  he  wrote a  small  column. It read" if  no one wants to appreciate  my cartoons..I will  personally  appreciate  myself  because I'm thecartoonist.." I cried.
Well  dad...I  will appreciate your cartoons when no one does..forever and ever...I promise you dad.. I wiped my tears.
He passed away  with a broken-heart I know. Ihad  promised  myself  that I  will preserved  most  of his cartoons. I  also  intend  to laminate  and  framedmost  of  them  as a  remembrance  of  him.. my dad..the  cartoonist. 
I'm  married  and  had  two  kids  now. The  eldest  one  was  ten years  of age. He was the  quiet  one and  always sat  in  his  room. I wondered what  he was doing  all alone  in the  room.
I quietly  tip-toed  behind him. Gosh...he  was  drawing  cartoons..just likemy  late  dad. My  boy was surprised when he knew  that I  was standing  behind him.
"Ma..why are  you  crying?" my  son asked.
"I'm crying  because  I'm  happy.."I quickly  wiped  my  eyes.
"You  loved  drawing  cartoons?" I asked  him.
"Of  course  Ma..I  really  love  to draw  cartoons..why?"  he  was  curious.
"Come..follow  me.."  I  brought him  to  my  dad's  room and showed him all the  work that  my  dad  had  done. My son smiled  gleefully as  ifhe had found  a  treasure.
"Wow..did  Grandpa  did  all  these?"  he flipped  inside  all the files  that  I  had  showed  him.
"Yes...your grandpa  was  a  good  cartoonist...look  at  all his drawings.." My  son smiled.
"Woah...I want  to draw like him..his  cartoons  were great..Ma..I want to study his cartoon and  draw  like  him.." 
"Of  course  you can son....be a great  cartoonist...if  grandpa hasn't  achieved his dreams..you  can and you will.." I  hugged  my son.
I was happy that my son  loved to draw cartoons..just  like his  grandpa..my  dad..the cartoonist.


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