Dad (I)

Dad was 50 when I was born. It was said that there was disappointment that I wasnt the boy they had hoped for. That from the maternity home I was sent to a nanny, but then brought back a few weeks later cos nanny was no good. Then there was another nanny that came in daily that I was supposed to be very attached to, and that infuriated mum who sacked her when I was a toddler, and I cried even more.

I had totally no memories of those days. I only knew I was a cry baby.

My earliest memory of dad was that he would come in the afternoon. He drove (very very few drove), and he would clear his throat and he had a way of using his knuckle to knock at the rail, and we would know it is him.

We had a record player, and he loved to play a song that goes..mama she loves papa, papa he loves mama. And another was Born Free. Another was My Bonnie lies over the ocean. He loved the camera and took lots and lots of photos.

I vaguely remembered there was a time when we waited for him to bring us to the beach for picnic... and he was late, and mum was angry. I remembered taking car-rides to see the 'lion' at Fraser and Neave (which is now Valley Point) then he would go off.

As i grew to be a child, i gradually realised dad did not live with us. But it didnt really made much difference cos our house was really crowded. 5 of us with mum. And dad was always nice.

I knew he lived in a house in a very very big compound. He had 2 servants, the 'ma-jie' in black and white. His son and daughter both studied in UK. But his son did not graduate, and never did anything much. His daughter was his favourite, and was till the end. Both of them did math and econs. I also did math and econs. I wanted to be like her. She was his favourite. We are 16 years apart.

When he came every afternoon, I would greet him, papa good afternoon, brought him his slippers and warmed up a cup of coffee for him. He was quite particular. This I did until he moved in with us when I was 17. By then, I guess I wasnt that understanding anymore, and saw things differently.

------------------------------------------------------
In my life, I was warded to the hospital 3 times, once for a night for food poisoning(when i was in jc1); another for appendicitis; and there was a third time. The last two times, I stayed a week each. In all the times, it was dad that visited me daily. In total, mum came maybe twice. She was usually sick whenever there is a crisis.

It was always dad. Without fail. Everyday.

But we had nothing to say. Perhaps he understood me. It was I that did not understand him.

He never wanted to say how bad things were, especially financially, because he wanted me to complete my university education. On my side of the family, I was the only one that made it, and with merit bursary to support me through.

But I was always aware things were not good. From 16 onwards, I did not take any allowance from home. I had sponsorhip from scholarships or by tuition. I knew I had to made it thru U, no matter what and worked part-time to help out. Dad was an intellect. In that I let him down. Although I graduated, I didnt do well. I was too involved in other matters. I didnt listen to advice.

When he was in hospital when I grew up, it was always me (almost always) that sent him there, and visited him daily. And we still had nothing to say. By then, I was crushed. Worried about bills, worried about so many things. Impractically, he would always want to be warded at Mt E. Until, when i finally reached 0.00 in my bank account, I stopped it. That was a 9 year period till 1999.

I did wish I could give him better. But it was not practical. And I had to be practical. There was a time both he and mum was in hospital. I had no choice. I had to be practical. Strange, I cant remember how I did it, but I managed it without much communication with sk or anyone else...

Dad was very brave and tough, and a fighter. Until he went down with a stroke at 79, he was robust and moved about alot. Up till his 70s, for our sake, he tried to continue his business with frozen meat, and would drive a lorry to the warehouse and carried stocks of frozen meat. I knew it was very heavy. Dad was rich. Was. His business failed....But he could take hardship to try to make things better for us.

When his right side was immobilised by a stroke, I saw how determined he was to keep mobile. Had there been better health care, he would have recovered. But there wasnt at that time. And cost was exobitant. Stroke was not common then.

It was in observing him that I know how important it is to strengthen your area of weakness. When his right side failed, he depended on his weaker side, his left side. That lesson stayed in my heart always.
----------------------------------------------------
dad did alot for me, actually much more than mum. He never disliked me. He was fair to both me and sk. It was unfortunate that mum had to struggle and get over her dislike for me. And I guess I just didnt know how to say the right things to her then.

I cant remember when she started treating me better... she did... i guess all along she did in her own way... we were just different... yet the same cos both our temperament were the same, so there was always conflict... i usually resort to stone silence...

But it was dad that was consistent in his care for us, for me...

not that he didnt have faults.... but that i dont want to remember... He knew i was angry with him for the tempests and turbulence in the family that i grew up in, and he knew it affected me deeply.

I did do what i can to assure him... but i guess it was not enough...

it was from dad that i learnt kindness and understanding... and it was from him, that i attained to insights far beyond my age.... but we never had much to say....

actually left to myself... i never had much to say... the words just wont come out...
-----------------------------------------------
Lee wei ling wrote about her mum's sufferings... i like her writing. But she is from a very privileged background, not that i belittle her sufferings. She will never understand and for that matter, most will never understand, what it is, to have understanding and see things in the adult world, from a child...

Like her I saw my parents sufferings... reading what she wrote brought back waves of memories that had anyway been lashing within my soul....

nevertheless, i knew what love is. I saw it in dad. He loved all of us, and me. Not everyone can say they knew what love is. I could say it. Thanks to dad.