Hi Dad,
It’s been a couple of week since you’re gone.
I miss you. I miss you so much.
I’m listening to the old voice notes in Whatsapp that you sent me. And hearing your voices made me burst into tears.
It’s true what they say, I guess. Grief comes in waves.
I managed to hold it together for almost the entire funeral process. I didn’t know how I do it. I just knew that I wanted to be strong, so that I can be a shoulder to cry on. For mom, for my brothers. I wanted to be there for them and reassure them that everything’s gonna be okay.
Well, not really okay. It has been so much different without you. I miss your random chats to check if I’ve eaten or not. Or our random video calls where we talk about everything. I wish you were still here, Dad. I really do. I lost my ground the day that I lost you. I felt like everything I’ve ever achieved wouldn’t really matter – if I don’t have you by my side.
But I’m being selfish, aren’t I?
I wish I had been a better daughter, Dad. I wish I had been more stern with you about your lifestyle, and your reluctance to go to the doctor. I wish I had done that, so that we had more time together. But time is an arrow and I couldn’t go back as much as I want to. I have to march on with life. Everyone have to.
Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier if I leave everything behind and live abroad? Would it be easier to be away from everyone so that when we lose them, we won’t be scarred as deep? I feel like I need to shield my life from my greatest heartbreaks. But, then, what kind of life would that be? I bet it’s a lonely one.
A heart that’s broke is a heart that’s been loved. Isn’t it Dad?
I remember I always ask you all kinds of things about English.
“Dad, why do we use ‘aren’t I’ instead of ‘am I not?'”
“Dad, why do we say ‘I wish I were there instead of I wish I was there?”
Oh, you made me such a nerd. And you made me feel good about being a nerd.
I’ll never forget the things that you taught me Dad. You taught me heaps. One of the main reasons I was so keen to study abroad is because I want to be like you. You raised us with these stories about the US, and I couldn’t help but grow an obsession to someday live in the foreign land just like you did. At that time, though, I didn’t think that the 1.5 year apart from you would be the hardest part.
I remember the last day before I departed for New Zealand. I hugged and kissed you, and you said you’re much calmer now that you know I was going with my husband. That he’s gonna take care of me.
And that he did. With some great sacrifices.
Dad, you’ve always been my number one supporter. I never thanked you for that. But I hope you’d still knew.
It’s late now, almost 1.30 AM. You always said to me, “Don’t sleep too late, or later on you’d have black lines under your eye.” And somehow I always manage to ignore that. What can I say, Dad, I’m stubborn like you.
But it’s time for you to sleep as well. Come to my dream tonight, will you?
I miss you.
And it’s not getting easier.
