Having talked so much about my Mum, it suddenly occurred to me that I've never really written about my Dad, except for their marriage.
From almost any single perspective, he's nothing like her. Strangely enough, whenever I think of him, the images are blurry teary faces. She was always the bad guy in the house when I was little, cause she started almost all arguments and fights whilst my Dad's the one up for it. Kids can't really tell right from wrong and it's the least important thing for them. All I knew was the whole world was crumbling and everything's falling apart. I felt some kind of existential crisis whenever she raised her pitch or eyebrows. My Dad, however, was the only consolation, the only thing that's for sure to be there, the only place you could turn to, like he's the safe heaven.
As time went by, I could put the pieces together and began to understand what's really going on back then. She had all reasons to be mad, and hysterical. Yet that still wouldn't justify her lashing out. Having witnessed their thirty years of marriage, I couldn't be more amazed at the fact that they are still together and there are times you could actually feel the strong bond between them and how much they care for each other. I could write a book about their marriage but today I just want to focus on him.
He's always gentle, patient, and treats me like a little girl. He'd arrange all those tiny little things when I'm with them. Sometimes I joke that he could even feed me like I was a baby. He likes to hold my hands and take a walk with him after dinner on those summer nights when I'm on vacation, like I am some kind of treasure he holds so dear to for the whole world to see. He's so proud of her daughter, if anything. Whenever there's a fall-out, he's the one who comes to explain on her behalf, that whatever she's said or done, she did it for my sake and that she cared for me. I swear as of this day, I still couldn't figure out where he's gathered all strengths and energy to do all these. That being said, what truly makes him great is that he could always make even the worst scenarios easy to embrace. He could always figure out a way to make things better, almost immediately, without hesitation. Yes, I may inherit my mild temper from him, but certainly I fail epically to beget his optimism, on which level I've been under so much influence from my Mum, as much as I hate to admit. I used to take it for granted and blindly continue to do so for as long as I could live were it not for what happened in recent years. And now I'm just so sorry to have neglected all he's done, and so grateful.
I am a non-believer. If there's truly supernatural forces that's been watching over us, I pray that he remains the man he's always been, the man with undying optimism, the man that always holds passion for life, and the man who remains hopeful.
Happy Fathers' Day daddy! You know I love you, as always.
