20 June 2011

The Most Important Man

A colleague asked me last Friday, in one of our office-nights out, " So, have you meet the guy who will love you for who you are, care for you for the rest of your life & treat you like a Queen? "

" What are you talking about, KC? I found him already. He's at home right now, most probably watching some Canto drama on TV! My Dad will love me for who I am, fat or thin, rich or poor, young or old"

(KC smirked) " You gotta go out more, girl..."

Aaah. The great, big mystery on why I am still single.

But this post is not about me. It's about the man who will love me for who I am.

My earliest memories of him was when I was about 7years old. He was on shift work at that time and I clearly remember I would be sad the each time he leaves for work at night, because I knew he would not be there to tuck me to bed. As a child, I didn't know how to tell him that. I just stood at the door and watched him whizz into darkness until my tiny stature could no longer catch his view.
In the next morning, I will wake up fully covered with blanket from shoulder to toes. And he would be in the next room, sleeping, snoring away. Being the unfeminine sleeper that I am, I knew that it was he who covered my blanket. Every morning without fail, I would wake up to my blanket fully covered on me.

My next memory was when I was about 10+. It was the time my Mom & I would challenge to get his attention. At least thats how I felt, not sure about Mom. It was that period where I felt I cannot lose to Mom. I want to be his favourite girl not Mom.
Whenever Mom showed him a new skirt she bought, I would run upstairs, put on my favourite dress and parade to him hoping he will like my dress more than Mom's skirt. Whenever Mom cooked him his favourite meal, I would quickly go to the fridge and give him my favourite Vitagen, hoping he likes Vitagen more than the meal. And in each quest, I felt I reigned victory, because he would place a KitKat bar in my lunchbox the following day.

Our relationship wasn't so rosy when I grew older. You see, he was a short-tempered man. Very quickly to raise his voice at the slightest irk. Very quickly to say nasty things when he is angry.
When I grew older, I had the courage to yell back. Teenaged suppressed angst. He would raise his voice when I come home past the agreed time and I would yell back, I am old enough daddy!
However, this always results in me crying in my room immediately after. It never ends on a happy note.

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His hair is all grey now even his beard. He has lost his most of his bulging belly and his back is easily susceptible to sprains & twists. His skin is wrinkly and he has lost most of his teeth. Yet to me, he is still the most good looking man. Ever.
Because of him, I am the intelligent, attractive young lady I am.

His temper is still there. He still shouts & get angry. However, I don't yell back anymore. I just keep quiet, let him rant all his steam, then calmly say " You are angry right now. Calm down, it's not good for your blood pressure. I will leave you alone."
The following day, as though nothing happened, he will ask me if I want to eat yau char kwei for breakfast. He will go buy some.

There is never a day, it hurts me so much that I wished I could be at home. Just be at home. Don't get me wrong. He is very happy, enjoying his retirement years, indulging in his gardening hobby and can look after Mommy & Brother much, much better than I do.
But, I just want to be home.

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Happy Father's Day, Daddy. Wow, you had a haircut! So leng jai already.

(Daddy smiled) "Heheh... thank you, when are you coming back, we go makan besar! "

- Although, I have not met that guy who will lift me up from Divemaster's vortex, it doesn't really matter. I have 2 boys at home who will love me for who I am, love me in sickness and in health, in poverty or in wealth... - 

2 comments:

joyce said...

roomate......u have a great dad!

Michelle said...

and I am really grateful to God for that, roomie :o)