Sunday’s letter – Volume 4

It was your birthday. Yesterday.

I realised now that I know so little about you as a person.

Who are you? What are your dreams, your goals and aspiration when you were young?

One of my earliest memories of you was when I was 5. The bell at the kindergarden went off and it was time to go home, I dashed off to the front porch to play with my friends while waiting for you to take me home.

The teacher called my name and I saw you standing with your bike waiving at me. It must have been a Suzuki or Mitsubishi. I remembered feeling kind of odd; most of the kids came to school in buses and cars. And you, with a piece of metal that demanded a lot of attention on the road because of the sound it made. I clenched to you with dear life, afraid that I might fall off the bike. Along with every vrooooooooom-like sound it made.

When I was a kid and had those ghostly encounters, I would go to your bedroom with teddy. In a half-sleep and half-awake state, you hopped onto my bed and fell into deep slumber as soon as you lay on my bed; with snores that would scared the day light out of any soul. I often wonder how did mom put up with your thunderous snoring for 35 years.

Rumor has it that you have waited a year long to ask mom out on a date and that you wrote her tons of letters proclaiming your love. I am glad that you persisted because she is in every way perfect for you. You are the Yin and she is the Yang, you are the cup and she is the saucer.

She accepted you as you are, she endured the unpleasant treatment because of religion differences. She went through all the hardship with you during those days when we were poor. So poor that you had to borrow money from loan shark for my milk power.

And yet, she stayed on.

You must be one helluva lucky fella to have married her.

Father figures were often thought of as authoritative and unapproachable. You were the exact opposite. You were fun and funny. To a point that it was annoying at times, especially when I just wanted to cave in like what introverts do. Nonetheless, your coolness puts the rest of the ‘uncool’ father to shame. Not because they weren’t fun and funny but they because of the front they put up, they missed out the fun of being a father.

When I was a teenager, confused by many with the constant debate of ‘my god is better than your god’; you have taught me how not to take religion too seriously. Which, then became a tipping point of how I viewed life as a whole. I understand now that those who took life too seriously not only ceased to live life to the fullest, but they have also missed out what it meant to be truly alive.

Now that I am older, I see more traces of you in my being. We are both sensitive, fastidious about our personal appearance (ahem!), adaptable in any given situation, love for money (uh huh!) and we are both responsible in the matters of heart.

I am so glad that you are my dad and I am proud to be your daughter.

my dad and I
my dad and I

Happy 67th birthday dad.

Sunday’s Letter – Volume 3

The pain in my heart is excruciating.
It felt as though someone is gripping it.
Squeezing it over and over again.
Without mercy.

My heart stop beating for a couple of seconds.
In that split second,
the world has come to a stand still.

I took a deep breath.
Holding it and exhaling it with all my might.
It felt as though life has been sucked out of my very being.

For a brief couple of second, the pain was bearable.
Until, it was gripped and ripped apart.
Over and over again.

How could you claimed that you loved me.
Said that I was special.
At the same time tell me that I am but only a friend?

How could you?

How could you?

How could you?

I should have known from your kisses.
It wasn’t love.

I should have known from the way you looked at me.
No longing, only respect.
For a friend.

I should have known from the way my heart felt when I was with you.
But it didn’t skip a beat.
Like how it would when I’m ‘in love’.

I should have known from your words.
Words that lack passion and the enthusiasm of a man ‘in love’.

There is only one thing left to do.
To end this tormenting journey.

You need to leave.
I need to wake up from my make-believe.

Only then,
I am able to set my heart free.
From the tormenting grip.

Sunday and a letter – volume 2

The reason people find it so hard to be happy is that they always see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is, and the future less resolved than it will be – Marcel Pagnol.

It is that time of the year again, the holy month of Ramadhan.

As I walked through pasar ramadhan at the train station, I thought of you. A poor but proud University student who was struggling to live by with less than RM10 in his wallet at any given time. When I hear the azan I saw a vision of a fair skinned boy with light grey eyes and light brown hair, praying at the direction of the kaaba for the safety of his brothers, sisters and the salvation for his country.

Some say that people come into our lives for a reason. Some stayed for a lifetime and some left as soon as their mission is served. After all these years, I am still trying to figure out the purpose of your existence in my life and why it has been short lived. Maybe you weren’t supposed to die, maybe all these were a mistake.

How could you have died, when we have not made peace with each other after the fight on that faithful night? When you called and pleaded me to attend your 30th birthday party. And all I cared at the other end of the receiver was the inconvenience of getting dress and hail a cab to an unknown address.

We would have known each other for 10 years now. I wonder what would become of us. Would you be here, lazing around next to me as I pen my thoughts this Sunday? Or would you have left for your country, kidnapped someone’s daughter and fulfill your duty for your country and left me yearning for your return on this Sunday evening?

I used to daydream walking around the Red Square with you in winter. It would have been so perfect, you would have held my icy cold hands and tug me under your big warm coat to keep me warm. I would have made you chase after me and we would be throwing snow balls at each other like childhood friends.

I’ve never felt so safe with any other guy but you. You were fearless. Yet, with those strong hands and arm, you were always so gentle with me. My body was your temple and you treated it with much respect.

You were a poor student, and I was a girl who earn a miserable salary. But we were happy even though we didn’t have much. Do you remember, that we used to have so much fun over some roasted chicken and a bottle of cheap Russian Vodka on Christmas and New Years Eve? And what about the time when you mistakenly bought a carton of mineral water which you thought was mandarin oranges for me during Chinese New Year? I remembered that we laughed ourselves silly that night.

Cheap Russian Vodka
Cheap Russian Vodka that cost about RM20

I wished I had gone to your birthday party. Maybe then we could have spent more time with each other before that faithful day when you were taken away in that car accident. How could my heart been so cold, to not realise that all you wanted was for me to be there with you, as how you have been there for me. If only I had put my ego aside, things could have been different today. Maybe, I would be reminiscing more of the good times instead of what we could have done.

I’ve missed you. Not a day gone by without a thought of you in my mind. Sometimes, I wished that your death was staged, and I would one day bump into you at the Red Square in Moscow in May, 2013

Sunday and a letter – volume 1

The day I understood everything, was the day I stopped trying to figure everything out. The day I knew peace was the day I let everything go. ― C. JoyBell C.

It wouldn’t be right if I said I didn’t love you.
I did.
Maybe I didn’t love you with all of me and with all my heart.
But I still did love you.

It’s been 3 months since you went away.
I make believe in my heart that you will come back one day.
When the time is right and when you are ready.
I refrained from asking you when.
I refrained from asking.
Because I needed to keep believing that one day.
You will return.

But as contradictory as it may seem.
A part of me that wished you would never return.
A part of me that is training my heart to become accustomed with your absence.
A part of me that want my heart to love you less with each passing day.

Until one day,
I could held my head up and walk away.
From this make-believe love that I once thought I had.

They say,
time can heal any broken a heart.
With time,
we learn how to see the truth and put our egos aside.

We will choose to stand up,
wipe our tears,
held our head high and decide,
It’s time to move on.

And today,
is that day.