He Ain't Heavy, He's My Father

My father told me that he fell in love with me the first moment he laid his eyes upon me after I was born. Because I looked exactly like him. Fathers are naturally proud of their daughters, what more those that resemble them.

His love was made so evidently to me throughout my growing years. And even to now, although displayed more differently now that I'm a mom. When I was little, he loved to cuddle me, tease me and see my fuming face cos that was when my mom would repeat the old mantra that my "black face" was exactly like his. I remember he loved to play with me in my semi-sleep state on weekend mornings, as he must have loved seeing my dreamy, bliss face before morphing into an irritable grouse if he were to rouse me further.

We loved to wrestle and tickle on the bed. And before long, I the loser, would start wailing and sobbing and that gave my father more reason to hug and cuddle me.

In primary school, I participated in a Chinese composition writing competition and I wrote about my father. Think I got a 2nd or 3rd prize. I would always think of my father in most occasions.

In my teenage years, my father's affection was unchanging. But I was undergoing changes as a teenager. I began to shy away from his public display of affection as I found it embarrassing. One morning, he was feeding me by mouth (he loved to share his food with me like that) at a coffeeshop and I was teased by an auntie passing by. As he held out his hand to hold mine when walking on the street, I pulled my hand away. I also stopped our cuddling acts.

 

My teenage years were also the time I witnessed my father's fiery temper. Perhaps it was stress from his work that caused him to throw his temper at home. Anyone who crossed his path during those times would be asking for trouble. Hence, I would always hide in my room during these storms and prayed fervently that I would not get into trouble. Sometimes, I would clash with him on purpose (I'm such a confrontational person) and I would see my personal things being destroyed, thrown away. Really, there were times I hated my father and wanted to leave home. But at the end of which, I would throw myself into his arms again when he simmered down and extended his arms to me.

There was one time I literally packed my bags and threatened to leave after an awful shouting match. He yelled that I had better change this nasty temper of mine. I retorted that he only changed when he was 45, I had 22 more years to go. Of course, I didn't leave home eventually as my mom begged and restrained me. And afterall, it was only a threat.

My wedding day must have been a bittersweet day for my father. His daughter would be handed over to another man. Before I left for my in-laws, he suddenly took out a pack of milk to feed me. I was embarrassed but to him, it was symbolic. It was supposedly his last time to indulge in me as from then on, another man would take over this role.

As I walked down the aisle with him, he asked me if I was nervous. Yes I was. He said he was nervous too. He kept talking to me as we walked, as if to reassure me. Being the father of the bride must not have been easy, keeping up that smile so his daughter could have the happiest day of her life.



I was giving my thanks after the wedding ceremony and I knew that I wouldn't be able to control my tears when talking about my father. I tried to prepare a speech beforehand but I couldn't, cos I would start to cry whenever I thought of my father's tender love towards me. I went impromptu on stage. I wept. My father wept. So did most of the guests.

Even after I was married and moved into our new house, he would often come over to scrub my sink and sharpen my knives. Yes, funny things he would do but acts that show his love. We still fought very badly at times and I regretted having acted the way I did.

As the children came, his public affection transferred to them. I saw less of it. Our interactions became more polite, less physical. I am more careful in my words and actions as my father is a sensitive man. I don't want to anger him as I did in the past and especially now that my mom is gone.

My father had been such a huge influence to me. Because of him, I am who I am now. Because of his affection, I didn't need to seek love from another guy and had healthy friendships with guy friends, instead of jumping from BGR to BGR. And I found a good man, because my father was the model. Because of his assurance and belief in me, I became a confident person.

True there are still ups and downs in our relationship but I am very proud of my father despite his shortcomings. I proclaimed this to him during my wedding and I would say it again:

If I could choose, I want you again as my father

I love you, pa.