My Father's Child

My dad put his house in order during our recent trip to Singapore. He made sure he visited the homes of my cousins and had a meal with each of them. He visited with his brothers, except his eldest - but he had that boxed off in a visit before.

Most importantly, he reconciled my Mum with her siblings, whom she had been estranged from the last 9 years.

As I sat a reflect on the week past, as well as the hours ahead when we make our way once again to the doctor's office for the latest update on what's going on in Dad's body - it hit me hard that I may lose my father soon.

I have been strong and pushing on the last 8 months. Keeping everyone sane and real. Yet, today I understand why everyone has been resisting my efforts. Today I understand why I have been at times the "visible enemy of cancer". Today as I sat in my favourite corner at the pub, I could not for the life of me, imagine the future without my Dad.

And because I cannot do that, I now wonder - how am I going to carry everyone through when the time comes? How am I going to sit by his side and help him cross over in peace and serenity?  How am I going to do all this when I am already breaking down inside with grief and pain?

Yet, as I shared Dad's efforts and actions the last week to my associates, the Ambassador remarked "Your Dad is a strong man as it takes a lot to do what he has done. You are his child and you will draw the strength you need from that."

So while there's a grief that can't be spoken....There's a pain that goes on and on.... I shall go forth today in that knowledge.

I am his child. His blood runs in mind. And as it courses through my body, he will give me his strength from the beyond.

You Came

My dad has severe abdominal pains late last night. It must have been bad cos he would always put off having to intrude / disturb me until he really has to. And so, at 15 mins to 11 pm, I get a call, asking if I could go home to take him to the hospital.

As Mum and I sat waiting in the ER way past midnight, for his number to be called, my phone beeped a text saying "Give me 10 minutes". Now you have to remember that for a person who lives daily without any hope in Hope, that is not something you say to said person.

But true to the text, in strolled a face I would never in a thousand years expect to see, on his own accord, walking in the doors of the hospital, with a bag of food and drinks for Mum and I.

And so it has to be said here (cos I would likely never have the guts to say it out-loud):

You came. On your own. When I lest expected it. And you stayed till we knew Dad was going to be fine, even though it would mean you would only have 4 hours of sleep before you had to go to work.

And introduced yourself to my folks, after 5 long years of saying no you would never met them. And you didn't hold yourself back when we spoke to the doctors and all that.

Part of me want to run for the hills cos it has been so long since someone stepped up and showed me I could lean on them when I needed to. Part of me is scared shitless. Part of me is wondering what happened that made you change your mind.

But you came. And that is what matters.