A few days ago, a man came to the flat looking for someone who used to live here. I do not know why but things like these always happened to me. People love coming to my place trying to locate… err anything.
It spooks me up, you know.
Things like these always triggered my memory to an incident that happened some times ago. You know when a stranger came knocking at your door, it is like a phone call in the middle of the night. You’d be on guard and constantly worrying.
At that time, mobile phones were huge and ugly. Only the rich kids and well-paid working adults could afford one. With my salary, I could only dream of owning an analog Motorola. Besaq gedabak. Berat plak tu, baling anjing pun boleh mati one.
I was at a stage where I did not like family gathering and I stayed away as far as I can. They knew where I lived and Aci came to see me a few times when she came down to KL. Raya time, I spent the first day at home, and the second morning I couldn’t wait to leave to be with CJ’s family. I distanced myself and I would only call home maybe twice a year.
Yes. I was that bad. I was thinking I had nothing to worry about. No more sick mother. My father had his new wife and my siblings have their own family. Don’t get me wrong. I love my family, but I just didn’t want to spend my time with them. It must be all that angst. It was my choice and I wanted to be left alone.
One night in 1999, PS, CJ and I were watching marathon of films at home. I remember feeling so bored and I think when I went to bed, I tido mati. Didn’t even stir a little. It was early morning when the knock came. Mind you, I didn’t hear any knocks, but PS came to our room and woke me up because there was two policemen outside looking for me.
Gulp! That really spooked me up. Maybe they were to arrest me since I fucked up my credit card in the States. (Everyone did it, so spare me the lecture)
I couldn’t find my voice when I faced them. I didn’t know what to say, so I nodded and hmmp-ed. My way of telling them I’m the one they were looking for. It must have been 5 am but everyone in the flat was fully awake by now.
It seemed that my family was trying to contact me urgently, and because I didn’t have a mobile, and I wasn’t in touch with my cousins, Aci decided to ring Sentul Police to help find me. My father passed away in his sleep.
I remember leaning on the wall and sliding down to the floor. I was thinking that finally I didn’t have to put up with him again. I didn’t cry, just that the news was finally sinking in.
CJ and PS made all the arrangements for me to fly home and sent me to the airport, for which PS got a ticket for illegal parking. Yes, I remember that too.
When I reached his wife’s kampong, I didn’t feel any sadness. I felt that my family was treated like strangers in their house. He was our father, but we were unable to arrange for his funeral. They have taken over everything and left us in limbo. We were not allowed to take him back to our house where he lived all his life. Na was furious, and insisted that at least father be buried near mom.
I recall sitting inside and looking at the people whom I didn’t know, and I resented my father for that. Why does he have to die in a stranger’s house?
Many questions popped out in my head. Was my father there for me when I needed him? Was he affectionate and loving? Was he a good dad? Did her ever hugged me?
For me, he was just… a father. He played no important roles in my life. I resented the way he treated my mother. I resented the way he carried his role as a father. I was mad at him for reasons I couldn’t even explain. For many years, I carried on thinking that he was responsible for many unhappiness. To me, he looked like he was not interested in his family, in us.
When mom was alive, I used her as a mediator to ask money or anything from him. I never asked him myself. When I called home, it was mom whom I talked to. When I went home, the longest time we talked was when we argued over which tv channel to watch. We never had any deep conversations like some father and daughter. I didn’t like talking to him, so I usually cut it short. We liked to belittle his many failed enterprises. When he got married again, Aci and I quarrelled with him and were not on the speaking term.
After all these years, I realised that he was just human. How would he know how to be a good father when there was no manuals for fathers? He just went head on following his instinct. He tried to do his best. Somewhere along the line, I wonder if he was hurt by my dismissal of him. By our treatments.
The year before he died, I noticed that he was aging and he wanted to be around the family, but we didn’t really grasp the point. Or maybe it was me who didn’t get it. I thought, wait a minute, he had his wife!
I know he was proud of me. Of his children, considering that everyone of us menjadi, according to orang kampung. Yet, I didn’t do anything to reconnect with him.
I am not mad at him anymore. That feeling is just in the past. Honestly, I thought I didn't have any love for him but after putting my anger aside and thinking as a mature adult, I do love him. For all the flaws that he had, he is still my father and sometimes I can see that there are things that I take after him.
These days, I am sad for I didn’t have the chance to treat him differently. Two years ago, I was still having problems understanding him. That was why I wrote the letter to the grave. I have changed and now I regret that I didn’t make an effort to get to know him., or talk to him, or just spend more time with him. If only he was still alive today, I would be a different daughter.
Father’s day is coming soon. I have always said that I am my mother’s daughter, but sometimes I wish that I was my father’s little girl. I have never ever cried for my father but tonight I did. For all the ups and downs in his life, he wasn’t so bad after all. If only he knew.
Al-Fatihah.
No comments:
Post a Comment