Hanjade Unuj – My father and I.

I secretly loved my father.

She does me too.

Silent. Calm down

We used to watch cartoons with my father. Especially Tom and Jerry.

I’m lying on the carpet, my dad in his armchair.

He shrugged and laughed, without a word.

We smiled.

My dad used to watch cowboy movies on Sundays.

And I’m at your feet, I’ve passed that hour.

Dad used to line up and read the newspaper. Crushed leaves.

I used to see my father.


My dad would buy me blue and red gel gelatin-covered finger chocolates.

I would be happy to open the refrigerator and see him shelf, I knew you put it there for me.

I also had a task, my favorite.

My dad used to shave his whole face.

It was on my cheek too.

I would watch the bathroom door shaving without sound.

I was patiently waiting for my secret mission.

When he finished his work, he would wash his shaving face, put a lemon colon on his swollen cheek and lean towards me.

In a hurry, I would blow on his face like I would blow out dozens of candles.

I would be very happy if I could save my father’s cheeks from burns.


My dad loved crime thriller movies.

He would fight in his seat, get a little caught, he would keep his head down so he wouldn’t get punched.

I used to see my father.

My father taught me to ride a bike.

He held me from behind so I wouldn’t fall.

When the servant was happy, he would listen to the song with a sweet smile.

I used to listen to my father.

We often got into fights and quarrels when Dad interfered with his head while teaching driving.

We will be sorry and look at each other, waiting for the moment when we reunite spontaneously.

My dad played backgammon well, he loved hitting backgammon.

I would drop by his side as a lucky charm and watch male-talk fights.


My dad was a puzzle wolf.

He would sit by the window all day.

I was relieved that everything was fine when I saw my dad walking down the street in his seat on the sofa.

When he leaves, he will go to the verandah, look behind you until he is out of sight, just raise his hand and bow his head a little.

My father was a tea master, he was known for the taste of the tea he made.

Throughout the summer he would come to the beach just to fetch tea, in the evenings he would bring me a cup of tea to the beach.

When I jumped up and thanked him, he would look like a father with embarrassed joy and return home immediately.

For example, when I bought a new T-shirt, it was said, ‘What was needed, so many clothes look like that’ …

Then he would wear it like a baby, never wanting to open it.

Her greatest joy was playing with her garden and watering her flowers.

He used to collect the fallen jasmine flowers one by one in the garden, not being lazy, ignoring our anger because you were tired.


We’ve had problems with my dad in recent years.

Like two friends who know and understand each other very well.

It was compressed, it was very weak.

He did not want to eat anymore.

I cut a tomato into three pieces with a fork and watched them pop one by one into his mouth like a dull bite.

‘Pretzel’ I used to call my dad.

Her hands would fit on my palms as I massaged her back.

He was so light that he could not even wear his shoes.

He could not wear his coat because it was too heavy.

That’s why he only went out on New Year’s Day with his winter jacket.

Two steps to the grocery store.

Rocky took the last cigarette.

He fell ill in the icy weather and was thrown into the room with difficulty.

Doctor, my dad didn’t like the hospital.

She was afraid she would not interfere with herself.

Geekio would not go out, nor would he complain if he had any sores.

He always said, ‘Let it break where it is thin’.

It happened just as he had hoped.


Everything took 12 hours.

Four in the evening to four in the morning.

He left us in his bed, asleep.

Like a calm, light, gentle bird.

Dad is ringing in my ears.

My father is Gunhan Unuj.

Son of Salih and Nair.

The 84-year-old, with a quiet farewell that does not frighten anyone.


Her chair is empty, her bed is empty, her coat hanger.


Dear Dad.

I’m constantly calling it “Dear Dad.”

As if he wants to fill the gap.

Then I tell my beloved fathers who have stayed with me.

Later, they spoke well of our friends and loved ones we did not know.

My secret loving, kind father.

My father, who pierced my heart by saying ‘my daughter’.

Dad, my lamb, my pretzel.

A small olive tree like yours on the head,

We put it in the sky, we covered it with earth.

We have given you to God.

Dear Dad.

(Since I am lovingly remembering my beautiful father on the occasion of this old article, I wish all fathers and fathers, like fathers, their loved ones and children many healthy and happy years together.)

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