My father died today - a Eulogy


My father died today - a Eulogy
by Azadeh Azad

Today, my father died at three in the morning in a private hospital in Tehran. He will be buried tomorrow. He was 88.

My dad was born in the village of Yush, of Nour county in Mazanderan. He had been brought to Tehran at the age of 9 months, his place of birth was registered as Tehran and he never wanted anyone to know that he was born in the birthplace of Nima Yushij – after all that was a "village" and he was very "urban." He was a typical middle-class urban Iranian, a civil servant of the Shah’s time.

In his early youth, while working as a civil servant at the Tehran Railway Department, he was studying to become an engineer but then the WWII broke and he was stuck with a Technician degree. Since time immemorial, he told us about the occupation of the Railway Station by the Russian and British forces, how he was afraid of the Russians and made silly jokes to gain their trust and overcome his own fear, and how he admired "the English" for eating only potatoes everyday behind closed doors and still keeping a stiff upper-lip. He himself looked and behaved like an Englishman, as my mother put it.

After my mother, my dad was the most powerful member of my family of origin. I remember him as a tall, blue-eyed and light brown haired handsome man who was always dressed impeccably, three-piece suite, white starched shirt and neat ties. He spoke a bookish Persian, was conservative by nature (didn’t take risks,) was very diplomatic and had a great sense of humour. He was also a kind of maverick. He came from a Bazaari family, but he hated the Bazaaris and went to Dar-ol-Fonun college to do his studies. A few years after the War, he got married and I am his first child. As a child, I remember him burning the midnight oil and studying to become an engineer.

My father was not a gifted or multi-dimensional man. In fact, he had only four dimensions: he was diplomatic, good with electrical gadgets, good with managing the money, and good for having long naps!!! Contrary to my mother who was an avid reader, my father hardly read anything – except the newspaper headlines. He was authoritarian and disciplined, a hard working and ambitious man, and very honest. His honesty had a religious root. He was a practicing Muslim and always made sure to pray first before playing poker with his male relatives :-). He was half-modern, half-traditional. The education of his children was the most important thing in his life, especially his daughters’.

My father was a cold and reserved man who was not very much able to love. Yet I adored him in my childhood and sometimes missed him when I moved to Canada. His idea of parenting was "to watch the children" as opposed to loving them. I constructed my whole personality in opposition to his and that of my mother. Yet I learnt a lot from both of them. My dad taught me how to work hard in order to achieve my goals instead of counting on luck or using other people. He taught me how to stick to my values instead of changing them opportunistically or being ashamed of them – he would pray in front of tens of unbelievers when it was time to pray. He also taught me honesty, "because that’s the least complicated way to be" (on the top of "dishonesty being a sin.") He remained a mid-ranking official, as he repeatedly rejected bribes of millions of toumans to hire, as his employee, the son of this or that rich family.

My father advised his children not to get involved in politics. But we all did. He never expressed any opinion for or against the Shah. He only sometimes whispered stories about the Majesty's twin sister trafficking drugs via railway along the country.

My dad and I were always very different people and he was no hero of mine, but he did his best as a father, as a husband, as a citizen and as a human being. I miss him a lot.


more from Azadeh Azad
Multiple Personality Disorder

Dear Azadeh Azad,

by Multiple Personality Disorder on



I am deeply saddened to hear of the passing of your father.  I hope passage of time would heal all your sorrows.

My condolences,

Azadeh Azad

Thank you

by Azadeh Azad on

benross: J'ai toujours aimé écouter Barbara, la Dame en noir. Quelle chanson triste. Merci beaucoup.

sag koochooloo: You are so kind. Thank you so much for your sympathy.



Azadeh jan

by sag koochooloo on

My deepest condolences. Your father will live on through you, and how proud he must be that he produced such a wonderful person. All your blogs give off positive energy and gentleness. Time will heal and I am sure you have wonderful memories of your father. Even the greatest people pass on, and I hope that will bring some sense of comfort to you in this difficult time. Kind regards. xxx


Missed rendez-vous

by benross on

I should have found this jewel much sooner. This is a song from Barbara -my eternal love- for you.


And with subtitle


Azadeh Azad

Thank you

by Azadeh Azad on

Dear Ramin and curly: Thank you so much for your soothing words.

Ramin jan, you're absolutely right. In fact, in our neurotic world, it is an Art to live an ordinary and balanced life. Thanks again.



Azadeh jan tasleyat megoyam be shoma

by curly on

roheshan shad bashad kheyle moteasef shodam.


My condolences Dear Azadeh

by ramintork on

I am sorry for your loss, may he rest in peace.

I recall 10-15 years ago I wished for a lot more from my father and then I found out that to live with decency, to work hard for your family, and provide them with the support they need, to live fair, and be respectful of others and to be a true friend, another words to live an ordinary life and find the perfect balance is something of an acheivement!

By the way, your Eulogy was very touching.

Azadeh Azad

Thank you my friends

by Azadeh Azad on

Thank you, dear divaneh, Fatollah, Souri, Tahirih, Marge, benross, Jamshid, Arash, Ari, Red Wine, Ramona, obama, Shifteh, and Farah, for your very kind and comforting words. You have no idea how much your comments are helping me. I appreciate every single word you've written to me.

Red Wine aziz, your familiar words of comfort really soothed me. I felt being in Iran, seated beside you and other kind souls on a bright Persian carpet spread on a "takht" and having tea. Thank you again, my friend.

Ramona jan, that was indeed an amazing synchronicity! Nothing is coincidental, as you know. Thank you so much for the wonderful poem by Mowlana.  

Dear obama, thank you for sharing your story with me. I agree with what you wrote.  

Dear Farah, I appreciate the insightful poem by Dylan Thomas you posted to my father's memory. Thank you so much.

Dear Setareh, I forgot to mention that I did read your discerning article "Under the shade" about the loss of your father. Thank you for leading me to it. 


With love,



Thank you Azadeh jan

by Monda on

I feel consoled by your kind reminder.

Farah Rusta

Azadeh khanom

by Farah Rusta on

I am saddened to learn of your dear father's passing.  I dedicate this poem by Dylan Thomas to his memeory:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

May time heal your wounds.


Shifteh Ansari

Tasliat, Dear Azadeh

by Shifteh Ansari on

Please accept my deepest sympathies.  I have a lot of respect for your father for the daughter he raised in you.


I am my father and grandfather...! Your father is not dead

by obama on

he is in you and all of his children! I always thought when we die, we're gone! I lost mine 20 years ago. Ten years ago, when I visited my family - one time when i was standing up and talking, I noticed my sister who hdn't seen me for more than a dacade started crying. When my mom asked her why, she said:"Look at him how he stands up just like baba, how he moves his hands, and speaks his mind just like him. Look how much he looks like dad!" 

I shrugged it off at that time, but I started thinking about it for a long time, and little by little I realized that my dad lives in me and as long as we have children, we don't die, we just go into younger bodies. So dear Azadeh, don't be sad! You are your dad and mom!


What a synchronicity!

by Ramona on

Just before coming across your moving eulogy, I was reading my favorite poem of Mowlana which my brother read during my father's memorable memorial service twenty years ago
It was the greatest grief of my life for he went to the other side when he was only 63 and I didn't get to spend enough time with him after his transformation into a much more loving, caring and giving father who wasn't afraid to admit his mistakes and make amends. And he left me the gift of love, which I always carry in my heart

Only you know what your father's gift was to you, and you will safekeep it as long as you live my dear Azadeh. May his spirit thrive and your soul forgive his blunders

And now, I'd like to share Mowlana's unforgettable poem with you

بی همگان به سر شود بی تو به سر نمی شود
داغ تو دارد این دلم جای دگر نمیشود
دیده عقل مست تو چرخه چرخ پست تو
گوش طرب به دست تو بی تو به سر نمیشود
جان ز تو جوش میکند دل ز تو نوش میکند
عقل خروش میکند بی تو به سر نمیشود
خمر من و خمار من باغ من و بهار من
خواب من و قرار من بی تو به سر نمیشود
جاه و جلال من تویی ملکت و مال من تویی
آب زلال من تویی بی تو به سر نمیشود
گاه سوی وفا روی گاه سوی جفا روی
آن منی کجا روی بی تو به سر نمیشود
دل بنهند برکنی توبه کنند بشکنی
این همه خود تو میکنی بی تو به سر نمیشود
بی تو اگر به سر شدی زیر جهان زبر شدی
باغ ارم سقر شدی بی تو به سر نمیشود
گر تو سری قدم شوم ور تو کفی علم شوم
ور بروی عدم شوم بی تو به سر نمیشود
خواب مرا ببستهای نقش مرا بشستهای
وز همهام گسستهای بی تو به سر نمیشود
گر تو نباشی یار من گشت خراب کار من
مونس و غمگسار من بی تو به سر نمیشود
بی تو نه زندگی خوشم بی تو نه مردگی خوشم
سر ز غم تو چون کشم بی تو به سر نمیشود
هر چه بگویم ای سند نیست جدا ز نیک و بد
هم تو بگو به لطف خود بی تو به سر نمیشود

از مولوی - دیوان شمس غزلیات

Patience et bon courage ma chere amie


Red Wine

با شما ابراز همدردی می‌کنیم

Red Wine


آزاده جان،دلمان خیلی‌ سوخت از غم شما،هم ماتم،هم غصه..سیاه پوش می‌شویم و می‌نشینیم و هستیم در کنار شما...

بدانید که تنها نیستید،کار از دست ما بر نمیاید جز بودن در کنار شما...

با شما ابراز همدردی می‌کنیم،اظهار تاسف می‌کنیم و این مصیبت وارده را به شما که نکو مرامید و عزیزانتان که از خوبانند،عرض می‌کنیم.


Ari Siletz

My condolences Azadeh

by Ari Siletz on

I read and re-read your touching eulogy, and spent a long time pondering the illustration posted with it. A simple, ordinary life. But so missed.

Arash Monzavi-Kia

With condolences and sympathy

by Arash Monzavi-Kia on

May your father rest in peace, and may your heart and your family’s find solace in his humane memories.


Dear Azadeh

by jamshid on

I am sorry to hear about your loss. Your father was a good man. My condolences to your and your family. I wish you strength and patience in the days ahead.


my condolences

by benross on

my condolences

I Have a Crush on Alex Trebek

Dear Azadeh, I'm sorry to hear this news. Iranian daughters

by I Have a Crush on Alex Trebek on

Have such interesting stories to tell.

I am sorry the news was not good, but I admit I loved reading this. You are such a great writer. It made me cry and connect. Thank you. I'm sorry you lost your father. You've found great ways to express your thoughts. Thank you for sharing with us. Again, please accept my condolences. 


So sorry about your loss.

by Tahirih on

My condolences to you Azadeh aziz for the loss of your father. I lost mine in 87, I have days that I crave to hug him. May your father's  soul be surrounded by love and joy.

Most regards,




by Souri on

Dear Azadeh,

Please accept my deepest sympathies to you and your family for your loss. May his soul rest in peace.


my condolences

by Fatollah on

bless his soul and may he rest in peace.




With my deepest condolences

by divaneh on

Dear Azadeh, please accept my deepest condolences. You have pictured your father beautifully and so sincerely. May he rest in peace.

Azadeh Azad

Thank you

by Azadeh Azad on

Thank you for your kind and soothing words, dear Nazy, Darius, Monda, Azarin, PERS66, rustameiran, comrade, Ebi Amirhosseini, SamSam, Nur, Esther, Setareh Sabety, Mona, Midwesty, Mina Dadvar, Marjan Zahed Kinderley, Cost-of-Progress, obama, Sid Sarshar, capt_ayhab, Tissa, and Laleh Gillani.

Nazy jan, your nice poem spoke to me. Thanks again.

Monda jan, your father’s not really gone anywhere. He lives within you as long as you live. I appreciate your sensitivity and solidarity.




تسلیت عرض میکنم


امیدوارم یاد خاطرات شیرین قدیمی قلبتان را گرم کند و درد و غصه شما را کم کند.



by tissa on

Azadeh jan, You have my deepest sympathies for your father, my fellow Mazandarani.  Sending warm hugs and comforting thoughts your way.


My deepest and most sincere sympathy

by capt_ayhab on

Ms. Azad,

Please accept from me and my family our deepest and most heartfelt sympathy and condolences.

We wish you and your beautiful family patience and perseverance in the loss of your beloved father. May he rest in peace.


-YT  and Family


Dear Azadeh,

by Sid Sarshar on

Please accept my condolences for your loss.  It is clear that you respect your father.

Sid Sarshar


Khoda pedare shoma raa biyamorzeh Azadeh!

by obama on

Sorry to hear that! You are also very luck for having him for 88 years! Many of us have not been that lucky. It is intersting that you mentioned he was from the Nour.

The people from Nour are indeed historically very ROSHANFEKR and nationalists! So, if your dad didn't want others know that he was born there, his traits were indicative of those people. In fact, I can only guess, the main reason he didn't want people to know that he was from Nour was beacuse of the political reputation of Nour which are definitely anti IRI and more.

You indeed are your dad's daughter and should be proud of it. The name you have chosen for yourself (Azadeh Azad) speaks volume of your dad's influence on you. Are you planning to go back to visit? May God bless him and all the Iranian nationalists!


Baanoo Azadeh

by Cost-of-Progress on

My condolences to you and your family. May he rest in peace.