My last game with Dad

My last game with Dad

Dad's a champion. I'm his daughter, and I know nothing of carrom.
You're the center of my universe, he confesses. His arm is around me,
I look at the patch on it. He's not lucid, I know. He's dying.

He never taught me carrom, waiting, for a son to take after him.
Your turn, he says. After all these years, the striker is in my court.
I take a deep breath and                                                             strike
though I know he won't remember it after sometime.