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<\/a>Who was my Dad<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
My dad whom I love so much, death has decided that your time has come and no human language is rich enough to be able to express all the pain and sadness that I feel.
But I reassure you, death is not strong enough to break the love that unites us.
To pay tribute to you on this very special day, I suggest we talk about who my dad was, his journey and the bond that unites us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His Journey<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
You started from nothing, without any diploma. As if that wasn’t enough, you were emancipated at the age of 16, just after seeing your father die in excruciating pain. So left to your own devices, you managed, through hard work and self-sacrifice, to become a computer engineer, outstanding professor and academic knight of the palms.
You probably owe your success to a passion for new technologies, to an incredible respect for knowledge and to meeting the woman who would become my mother. With her you formed an incredible pair filled with pure love, complicity and common projects.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The bond that unites us<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
As for the bond that unites us, however, it is so unique that it is difficult to find the right words to describe it. So I prefer to do it through my memories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Throughout my childhood<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
I remember water fights throughout the apartment with mom scolding us for getting it everywhere.
I remember the foam fights in the bath every Sunday evening.
I remember the dolls you made for me with a champagne cork and a piece of fabric.
I remember the car races we did with 2 erasers and 4 staples.
I remember the walks through parks hand in hand.
But what a joy it was to grow up alongside you! What a joy!
We didn’t have much and yet we had everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I remember when I stayed quietly waiting for you when you went to do repairs for your own IT company. I cherish the memory of the moments when at 4 a.m. he poked his head into my room because he was worried to see the light in my office still on. He used to say to me, \u201cIt\u2019s getting late, you\u2019re going to have trouble keeping up with class tomorrow\u201d. You were 58 and I was 26 when you were diagnosed with prostate cancer. I remember this evening in Monaco where I no longer knew what to do to help you get through it. I see myself looking at this debauchery of wealth and telling myself that I have the right to be successful enough to be able to save him! From then on, I took the \u201cMonaco\u201d oath, the “Monaco oath” is simply the oath to do everything, to try everything to get him out of there and to never give up. I see all the moments of hope.
I see all those moments that make a man a father and a child a happy child.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nThroughout my adolescence<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
I remember evening classes and weekend exams where he would, at the start of each session, ask the teachers if I could stay at the back of the class, while guaranteeing them that I would not make any noise.
I remember when I accompanied him to make his emergency replacements for the national education ministry as an auxiliary teacher.
I remember being by his side when he was preparing for the competition to become a technology teacher.
I remember the Wednesday afternoons that I spent in the reading rooms of the CDDP then the CRDP while he was working on the educational projects of the Montpellier academy.
I remember his students who nicknamed him \u201cMazou\u201d because they adored him.
I remember the young girl who had her leg run over in front of the technology rooms at Lattes college and whom he ran to rescue. Her parents, just as much as her, didn’t know how to thank him.
I remember his former students, often from difficult classes, whom we sometimes came across and who thanked him for introducing them to a passion that would give them a future.
I remember this schoolboy who broke his leg just before an organized trip to the United States and whom he carried on his back on each excursion so that he could fully enjoy California.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I see all those moments that make a father a role model and a child a teenager.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nBecoming a young man<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
I cherish the memory of his happiness when he saw my mark of 20\/20 on my Mathematics test in the Grandes Ecoles’ National Competitive Exam.
I cherish the memory of the moment he taught me how to tie my first tie knot for my interviews.
I cherish the memory of the moment when he came to pick me up one evening in Nice after my admissions exams and drove all night to take me to repeat the exercise the next morning in Grenoble.
I cherish the memory of the moment when he accompanied me to the plane that was to take me to study at an American University.
I cherish the memory of the moment when he came to see me after finishing my first day at work at the headquarters of a large bank in Paris.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I see all these moments that make a father, a father proud of his son; and a son, his father’s son.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nAn angel amongst men<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
I see your face full of anguish and incomprehension in the car on the way back.
I see again your worry and your pain mixed with your desire not to let anything show.
I see our world collapsing!
I see myself in every hotel room, every evening, screaming in pain until I lose my voice, hitting the mattresses until I can no longer lift my arm, looking for explanations until I lose my mind.
I see myself accompanying him to each specialist.
I see myself going to see you every day in the hospital after your operation.
I see you remaining worthy, good and benevolent despite all the treatments.
I love you too much to accept the situation.
But why did life take such a toll on him?
I’m lost !<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Also, every summer, I will ask you and mom to go to Monaco for my birthday without giving you an explanation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I relive all the disappointments, the intensity of which continues to increase as time passes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But why did life take such a toll on an angel?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n