My Dad

Just thought of blogging something about my dad, since it’s his birthday next week…

My dad was a typical traditional dad, nothing like the young dads you see these days. He was strict and firm, the no nonsense kind. It was only during my teenage years that I remember joking and fooling around with my dad. Even then, I did so with care, being very careful not to tread over the boundary.

But beneath the fierce and stern facade, lies a very kind and loving father. A father who wanted nothing but the best for his children. A father who really loved his children deeply. My dad really doted on me very much. When I was in kindergarten, he would bring me to a small bookshop in Raffles Place every Saturday, where I could buy a storybook of my choice. It was my dad who introduced me to the love for reading. He always advocated that education and knowledge are things that no one can take away from you. If I wanted any book, he would definitely buy it for me. I remember I liked to read Chinese novels when I was in secondary school. When he went to China on a business trip, he actually carried cartons of Chinese novels back, just so that I could read them.

From secondary school to JC, my dad took the effort to fetch me to school every morning. When I was in university, I would get a lift from him to campus for my 8.30am lecture and then wait in campus so that he could fetch me home after work. I remember there was a semester when I had a Physics lecture from 6.30pm to 8.30pm every Wednesday. My dad would work late just so that he could wait for me, then fetch me home. One month before my exams, I would always be studying in the library with my friends, from 8am to 10pm. Again my dad would work late so that he could fetch me home. He was certainly not the kind of dad who would hug or say loving things to his children, but he showed his love through little actions, often taken for granted.

My dad was probably the person on planet earth who loved me the most. He had high hopes for me, and always believed that I could achieve. However small the achievement, he never belittled it. He would always smile and say “Well done!” Just two simple words, but it was enough to make Daddy’s girl work hard. Very hard, to put that smile on his face.

Since 2005, my dad’s health deteriorated. But he never gave up. Even though he was in great discomfort, he remained cheerful and always told me that he would fight for his life. In 2006, he once spoke to me about how life would be if he were gone. He wanted me to be strong for my mum and my brother. I promised him that I would take care of my mum and my brother and before I knew it, he was gone.

At his funeral, I learnt of how proud he was of both me and my brother. His friends told me, “Your dad always speaks very highly of his children, especially you. He is very proud of you.”

Life has been very different since my dad passed away. There always seems to be so many things that would remind me of him. Even more so in January cos both of us share the same birthday month. It has been nearly 2 years since my dad passed away but the pain is not any less. I still continue with my life, seemingly strong, but it is just so different. I know I have to be strong, but it still hurts greatly.

I often ask myself, what if my dad is still alive? I’m pretty sure he’ll be happy at my appointment, he’ll be happy that I’m doing my masters, he’ll be happy that I’m getting married. I can just imagine him smiling when I share my good news with him.

Daddy, I miss you… I’ll be strong, but I still wish you were here…

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