“Dad, I’ve made
it!” I muttered. There was no reply. How I wish he was here on the day of my
convocation for my Master degree. If only he were here, he would have attended
my convocation and I would not have felt ‘alone’ in the hall throughout the
ceremony. How I wanted to cry and how much I’ve cried. “Dad, I knew you can see
me in heaven and may that be. I know you’ll be proud of me.”
Dad and Mom
married at young ages. The marriage proposal was made when my grandfather was
at his ill bed and Chinese believe that marriage can help boost an old person’s
health, so my parents were married. Dad was immature and his play time had not
ended. After all, he had a good mother to look after our food and clothes and
what’s more to worry about? He never forgets to bring us out every weekend to
one of the best beaches like Port Dickson and Morib and the then popular water
theme park, Mimaland. However, when grandmother passed away, Dad was jolted
from his slumberland and was pressured to work hard to earn a living for his
own family. Working day and night, father-children relationship began to drift
further and further apart. Communication was at the least! We woke up not
seeing Dad and we went to sleep without any sign of him.
Dad missed a lot
of our growing up. He did not know when I got my best Art stream student award
in the school. He did not know when I cried and almost committed suicide for
being bullied in the school. He did not know when I was betrayed. He did not
know me! It did not help when we got to know that he had a mistress. Although
he did not admit it, we knew it. The cracks went deeper.
During my
varsity years, Dad had a tremendous change. He took the effort to take me to my
varsity in Kedah every new semester and helped me to carry all my stuffs to the
allocated room. He called me almost every night to find out what I was doing
and whether I could cope with the ‘jungle’ life. When I graduated, he drove me
everywhere for interviews. Happy days returned.
Things were fine
not for long…Dad was diagnosed with liver cancer. It was the third stage and
within a month, he was in the fourth stage and almost all the doctors we met
gave up on his case. Within those six months of being ill, I saw great changes
in Dad. He religiously went to church with me every Sunday. I would never
forget those two questions that he asked and have touched me deeply. One was,
“I’ve done so many bad things…Will Jesus forgive me?” I held his hand and
assured him, “Yes, He will.” Another question he asked was, “Daughter, were you
angry when I did not let you further your study in Australia as promised?” Deep down I
wanted to say, “I was. I was extremely disappointed the moment I knew I could
not go to Australia because
all the money was to be spent on my brother for his three years of education in
Australia
rather than one as planned. I was disheartened why I was to be sacrificed.” But
could I tell this dying man, my dear Dad that way? No! I told him, “It’s OK.
I’ve made it to local university. I’ve forgiven you.”
Dad, I have
forgiven you long ago on whatever you have done to us or to me. In fact, I have
always missed you. With you, I was always a little girl. I liked to confide in
you because you always gave me confidence. How I wish you were for my
graduation! In loving memory of your 5th anniversary, Dad. I miss
you.
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