My father used to drink Heineken.

Naturally, when I was old enough to drink, I too drank Heineken.

He used to smoke cigarettes, though he hid this addiction well.

So, when I was old enough to understand that this caused his death,

I vowed to never pick one up.

He would always give to beggars and assist strangers in need,

Even when he knew that it might be to the detriment of his own family.

As I grew up, I found myself doing the same.

Everyone who knew him well tells me he was a kind and gentle person.

But I can barely remember him.

People tell me that I am a good person.

But sometimes I feel selfish and uncaring.

Those can’t be traits of a good person.

They say he and I have the same smile;

They say we look so much alike.

I don’t see it.

But maybe if I stare hard enough and long enough at pictures of him,

I will see some part of me staring back.