wasnt going to do a post today, then i was going to repost this. its something i wrote on one of my daddy why? times. but then here i am tapping away...
its been eight years since he left, such a long time that just seems like a day ago. just like yesterday when i looked him in the eye with something close to hatred, typical of a hormone raging teenage girl, just cos he wont give money for me to buy that georgeous white pumps i needed to have for sunday mass in school.
i climbed into the car and sulked as the driver zoomed off, but not before i gave mom the biggest clingiest hug barely sparing him a glance(to make him feel bad), not even acknowledging the sad wave he gave with that smile on his lips he always had when he was amused at me, the smile many have said i take after.
barely three weeks into my semester in school, i got a letter from him, one i glanced through like i do now at those boring meeting minutes at the office. then i discarded it. i was still mad at him, not for the shoes but for the fact that i still loved him despite his blunder(which i had realized made sense)and he still loved me despite my bratty attitude and the fact that i couldnt understand my emotions.
eight years since that day that i whispered the whole 2hours of night prep away, telling a random friend RT about dad, reminiscing on the wonderful times we've had and how i missed that i always smiled at him and how i never understood why i would always get mad at him in recent times...i talked and talked and cried my frustration all out,not knowing or maybe somehow knowing that at that moment the only man i loved only slightly above my brother was taking his last breath.
i remember me being picked up from school with some bull story, not really caring why they let me home for some dinner party for my sis,i was just happy at getting out of boarding school for a few days, cos suddenly i was depressed there. then i got home and i heard the news...all i could think of was not my daddy, not my strong man, my super hero, the one who never got sick, who carried me on his back, whos back i lay on and played with the mole on it, who would carry me on his lap and drive up and down the street.
the one who creeped behind me to pinch my ears, the one who called me his 'mummy', his 'star baby'.
the one who made me laughed, who..............
the cryings supposed to have stopped, then why am i crying now?
i didnt get to cry at the burial...there was a bit of tears that rolled down, forced out of my eyesi wanted to be strong for the family, for mom, i wanted to be the one not crying so i comfort them...
i lived in acceptance those few days before we buried just to avoid being in the shock of denial, when really that acceptance was more of an illusion, i still hoped that somehow he'd show up and kiss me and i'd apologise and tell him i loved him again and again and again...
i still seat in his study like i did on those first days, looking out the window to see if he'd be on the balcony reading a book or the papers so i could go seat with him and talk.
its eight years today, i might have forgotten the scent of him, but i still hear the jovial way he called my name...
i see his smile whenever i smile in the mirror.
i see him in my 3 sisters and my brother, cos he lives in us.
i yearn for him when my leg hurts cos he was the one who i loved to massage it, but i feel his touch when i close my eyes real tight and try to imagine it.
i see him when we laugh and share a family joke
i see him in the monopololy games i play
i see him everywhere cos he lives on, his memory comes alive in the daily thoughts and talks we have.
once my brother called me 'mummy', he sounded just like dad when he did, and i shivered in excitement? or maybe desperate hope?, or once when he sneaked up on me from behind to pinch my ears and i turned to see if maybe...that was then, now i smile when anyone does those things, because those little things are the memories that'll keep us going.
the tears wont stop and i dont will them to, cos they are no longer of pain but of sweet memories of what we had as a family.
eight years today...i've gotten over my last scene with him, my heart has stopped lurching in pain at the thought of that last smile he threw at me and how i ignored that effort to reach out to me...
i've gotten over my cruelty and embraced my memories...
i love you daddy, i love you so so much, i miss you too, but then i love you even more than i've missed you.