..On August 15, 2008, I met/saw my boy for the last time before I traveled to Sweden. It was for less than three hours in a special place called the Human Rights Building where the people who are divorced can see their children.
According to my country's law, after divorce the custody of children under nine year old is with the mother rather than the father. My son was three years old and I saw him once a fortnight, taking a toy as a present for him. I would look forward to the meeting every day, and felt very happy when I saw him every time. He has a lovely nature so that everyone who worked there liked him. He looks like me and we have some common characteristics.
On this day, I have spent the last hour looking for something that will make him remember me for the next meeting because I know that he will not see me again for at least one year. I wish the three hours would never end. Some of thetime he was looking at me strangely. After he had played with me, he fell into a deep silence occasionally exact same as me,
The worst of it was that I was feeling that those three hours are not enough to create a strong relationship between a son and his father. Sometimes I read in his eyes some questions like "Who am I?" or "Why have I been brought here?", so I felt sad with the frustration of teaching him the meaning of fatherhood.
So, at the last moment, I was talking with him while I hugged him and kissed him for the last time.
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