When I was a child and as far as I could remember, I loved spending time in family outing. Wherever Dad and Mom went, I tagged along. The outing I liked most was trips to Port Dickson or Morib beach or Mimaland Water Theme Park. Dad knew how to swim but I did not. So, it was always secured to stay near him. Every Saturday, Dad would drop us off at the library before he went to work. Then, he would pick us up at 4pm and took us to A&W for ice-cream waffle. Those were the best days in my life. Then, Grandma passed away and Dad had to become a real Dad and look for a better job to be the sole bread winner (Previously he depended his expenses on Grandma). Since then, I hardly see Dad. When he was back, we were already asleep. When we woke up, he had already gone to work. Days, months, years passed and we were all grown up. Dad realised he missed a lot when I entered Form 6. He started to find time to talk to me which I disgusted most. I did not like being treated like a little girl anymore. Yea, he treated me like an eight-year old! "Daught, have you eaten? Is the food delicious? Blah, blah, blah.." He asked me tonnes of questions and at that time, I felt either of us was an idiot to have ask or answer those questions. And I went to the counsellor, a great Christian teacher and she gave me invaluable advices. I changed. During varsity years, though being far away from home, I felt near because Dad called me almost every day. He gave me support mentally and when I graduated from the university, he drove me around for interviews.
He knew I have a dream to become a famous author. When my first batch of books was published, he distributed the sample copies to relatives and friends. I was embarrassed by his action but was deeply touched for he was the only one who would praise me. Mom was too embarrassed to even mention about my books. (Yea, can't blame her. I think my stories suck too!) There was no one in my life who has praised me except Dad. Though he fell ill in 2007, we thought he would last longer because Doc did not say about death possibility. He was doing well. Even when he was admitted into the hospital for diarrhoea, doctor said he was recovering fast and could be discharged the following day. But the next day while I was rushing through my Master degree assignment, brother called to inform that Dad was vomiting blood and that was when I trembled and tears poured out uncontrollably because I knew he would not be surviving. Indeed, he died the next morning. I lost all hope in continuing my Master's. I had four exams to take, two presentations and two assignments due in one month time. I collapsed and cried so hard because I lost my one and only supporter, one who believed that I can achieve my dream though everyone around think I would fail. I had lost my best buddy who gave time to hear about my lamentations and one who without fail repeated his life's motto: "Never a loser until you quit!" to me. I was lost.
Brother told me, if I were to let Dad rest in peace, that was the time and I should hold my head high and finished off everything I should. I did and that semester I scored 2 As and 2 Bs.
Fast forward 5 years, relatives said I should be going back to my hometown often to "pay respect" and put forth "food" for Dad. They considered me unfilial for not doing so. I felt I've done my part. So long I respected him while he was alive, that was the most crucial part of all. Come to think about it, where were they when Dad needed encouragement most? I miss him not only on the Qing Ming day but almost every day because I know what love really means...
No comments:
Post a Comment