10 years' feelings

Recently, I had the urge to write something. Like an essay. I just don't have time, till now. That's why I love holidays, you get to do the things you so wanted to do, and get it done. So back to the topic, as I said I wanted to write something, I literally meant I wanted to write something, which is, I don't know what the something is. There were a few stuff running through my mind, first my friends, then my best friend, my old best friend, the past errrm you know--boys, then college life, and secondary, then to my life, my cousins, my family, my sister, my mom, my brother and... Click. I knew exactly what I wanted to write.

My father.

Twenty-one years of my life, half, I lived through it without him, my father. He passed away just before reaching forty-one, in 1999. I was ten years, nine months old. You might think time had washed away all the sadness, tears, memories and feelings. If so, you're half right. Time does wash away a lot, whether you like it or not. But those feelings don't just go away. They change, every period of time through these ten years.

I recall clearly the morning he left. It was a Friday, two days before his 41st birthday. The funeral, it was a horrible three days. I remember his coffin, the tents, those prayers, the people crying, the rain, the burning, the memorial park and more burning. So horrible it still haunts me. However, besides crying and crying, I don't quite remember how I felt that period of time. All I know is that I felt angry because it was unfair. I was then in standard five, we had around fifty in a class, and four of us lost our fathers in that very year, I was the second one. Still, it was unfair. Why? Why does it have to be me? Well, I now know. There's no answer to this question. It just is, the way it is. Like people say, it's fate. Well, of course to me, it's the most ugliest, stupidest, ridiculous, horrible, terrible, lousy, junk fate. But no matter how much it sucks, how unfair it is, it is, just the way it is. And it's not going to change. This little fact took me years to realize. Really, it really took years.

At some point then, I remember wondering, hoping, and wishing I would just wake up. Suddenly. And be so glad it was all just a big terrifying nightmare. Just convincing myself he was gone and no longer coming back took a long time. Sometimes, it was like I went crazy or something, telling myself inside my head that he's dead and then defending that it was impossible. This self-conflict, I never dared to tell anyone, I knew, I had to sort it out myself. Now, knowing there's no why to the unfairness, the anger faded. But it doesn't mean I now feel it's fair. It still isn't. It's just that I've learnt parts of life is just unfair, it is the way it is. Only if you could view it as a big picture, you might find that life is actually kind of fair. Sometimes, you lose a little here, and you gain a little there. Maybe in my case, I gained a strong relationship with my mom. And I learnt to treasure the time spent with people I love, knowing how it's like to lose them. However, if I could choose, I would still change the case, I would still want my father back. That is, as I say, if I could choose.

Another one feeling I had, was the blame I had for myself. Before my father left, he was admitted into a hospital in Singapore. One day, my mom called from there and it was me who picked up. She asked if we(brother, sister and I) wanted to visit my father during the weekend. I rejected, saying I had exams on the following Monday. I repeat, I, actually rejected. How brainless and stupid can I get? Well, the following week, she called again. This time, she insisted that we visit my father on the coming weekend. But, he didn't wait. One day before the weekend, was the Friday that he left. And it was all my fault, all my fault that we couldn't see each other for one last time. All my fault. I feel guilty till now. I guess I didn't know his sickness was this serious. I guess I didn't know. Well, I can't remember whether I knew or not. But I really hope I didn't know.

However, that wasn't the only guilt I felt. Sometimes, not knowing something or even forgetting something about my father makes me feel guilty. Well, the word guilty doesn't really cover the feeling. It's actually a mixture of guilt, unfilial, anger, pain, powerless, and helpless, which leads to major frustration. And this happens all the time. Randomly. Repeatingly. Always. An example I can remember is the time when I started to learn French and was required to write stuff about our family members. I hated these kind of stuff. Even filling up those school forms can be irritating. I hate it when I have to ask what to write for the father's column. I don't like telling people who I'm not close with about my father. So should I leave it blank? Or should I cancel it out? Because I even hate to write 'Deceased'. Well, back to the story, when I was required to write about my father in French, I needed to know his hobbies, his favourite colours, his favourite song, and stuff like that. It made me real sad that I had to make that up.

I can’t remember if I had ever asked him these. I can’t remember knowing. Was reading his hobby? Was blue his favourite colour? Was Country Road his favourite song? Did he like to sing? Where did he bring us to in the holidays? How did it felt like talking to him? Had I hugged him tight before? Had I ever told him that I loved him? There’s so much memories that’s fading beyond my will. And it is so so frustrating that I can’t do anything. So now you know what I meant in this blog post. Like I say, time does wash away a lot, whether you like it or not. In this passage, you might wonder why I keep referring him as 'my father'. It's because I couldn't even remember what I used to call him. Was it pa, dad, or daddy? Again, the frustration kills me.

Because of this, I treasure those little things that I still remember about my father. I revise it in my mind frequently. I remember his laughs. I remember his prickly beard that he rubs on my face and hand always. I remember the taichi move he does to make us laugh. I remember sitting by the door waiting for him to come home from work on Saturday afternoons. I keep his photo in my wallet, just because I could never forgive myself if I ever forget how he looks. There was once when I dreamed about him. He was driving and I was in the back seat right behind him. I hugged him from behind and even in my dream, I made an effort to remember that feeling. I woke up like a kid on Christmas day. So so happy.

In the recent years, we kind of started to talk about my father in the family. Before this, it always felt like a sensitive topic. My mom seldom speaks of him. My brother never speaks of him. I was afraid of speaking about him in front of my mom. My sister sometimes speaks of him, but she was little. However, it seemed okay now. Sometimes, when we talked about him, we joked that he might be in the room listening, and we laughed. I like it this way. It’s been way too many years and it’s about time we all look at it smiling and happily move on. Quite recently, my mom told me about my father’s ex. Well, the point is not the ex, but the fact that we talked about my father, which I know we wouldn’t in a few years back. Finding out things I didn’t know about my father just makes me excited. It’s like a new discovery for me.

When I applied for college two years ago, I too found out something which really surprised and touched me. My mom and I were in the car, after registering and paying the registration fees for my college. I was wondering about my huge amount of fees, so I asked my mom if it was actually affordable. She explained how my father had left us enough, how he planned for this, how he secured us with insurance. And she told me that it was him that kept us where we are now. I recalled as well, when I was in secondary, that her salary was just break even with all our school fees, bus fees and tuition fees added together. So it was indeed my father that kept us where we are now, I realized at the moment. I was very surprised and deeply touched. He left, but before that, he made the efforts to protect us if he weren’t here one day. It was as if he left but his love remains. People say it all the time, a person leaves but he exists in your heart. It was then that I actually felt that line. Yes, it was as if he still exists, still here. And I tell you, that felt great.

Well, I could go on and on, telling you about these weird feelings that I experienced these ten years, happy or sad. But I guess I should end here. I miss my father, and I know I will never stop missing him. Once in a while, I'd still hide under my blankets and wail my heart out. But the next day, I know I'd be fine again. It's just something that will stick to me forever. A black spot in my life. A black spot I've came to accept as part of me. A black spot that I've learned to live through. I loved, love, and will love my father. This will keep him in my heart forever. =)

Done. It feels great to write these out. 10 years' feelings. Things change but I still miss him and love him. I hope I dream him tonight.

Pa, Dad, or Daddy, I love you.