MY ENDEARMENT

My beloved father.

I admit, my dad is not the most admirable person or man in my life. And he is definitely not the most perfect father or husband but he is one man who loves his family tonnes & tonnes & tonnes.

My dad is one of the nicest person in the world- I have never heard him said anything mean/sarcastic/racist/selfish.
He, who is always immaculately dressed, is the one who taught me manners and etiquettes.
He is the person who loves me the most, ever. He is my loving father who calls me almost daily just to ask, "What are you doing, darling?"

My dad's love for me shows when he warns me "not to walk behind buses in case they reverse", "not to chase after buses; I rather you turn up late" and "don't ever get onto a bike; tell Desmond to take mum's car instead".
His love for me shows whenever he tells me to "take care" before hanging up.
His love for me shows in his eyes, his expressions, his face and his actions everytime he speaks of the fond memories of me when I was young.
His love for me is so blatant amongst his sisters and friends that everytime we meet up, they would tell me "Your daddy really loves you very much."

I love the way my dad addresses me "darling" or "sayang" with much endearment.
I love his insistance on my goodbye kisses everytime he drops me off anywhere.

I love my dad so much that I cried because I missed him so much when he was not around during our two weeks holiday trip to London.
I love him so much that I cried when I saw him sick on the hospital bed years back. He is the person whom I've cried for the most.
I love him so much that it hurts me when he coughs badly or complains of a bad headache.
I love the way when he put me on his lap affectionately, when I was little, to "train" me to drive.
I love the way he laughs while watching the late-night HK dramas (no, he doesn't watch anymore).
I love the way he cuddles me whenever I sit by his side watching TV.
I love the way he is so delighted whenever I stay up for his late returns.

When I was one month old, my dad scolded his older sister-in-law who fell off her chair while carrying me (I was not hurt at all; my aunt was).
When I was young, my Peranakan dad taught me Malay phrases to speak to the Malay vendors at the coffee shops. (Unfortunately, I have returned them to him.) On several occasions, I acted as a (bad) Mandarin-English translator between others and my dad.

During my secondary school days, he saw my teachers on several occasions behind my mum's back for disciplinary purposes.
I was always well-shield by my dad from my mum's physical discipline. The rare times he lectures or beats me, he would knock on my door afterwards to apologise. His principle for discplining my brother & I: Never hit them on the face. Hitting once and that's it; dont overdo it.
He rushes me to the hospitals in a panic whenever my gastric pains get so bad.
He willingly ferries me home on most times I ask, no matter how busy, far or inconvenient.
He trusts me with my words- although he knows that the bad scratches on my arms were caused by a bike fall, he cajoles me by believing my insistance that they were caused by a bad fall.

I feel lousy for the times I took my dad for granted, for the times I was rude to him, for the times I refused to pick up his calls, for the times when I haven't been understanding to him and for the many times that I sided with my mum. As much as I do not treat him with the due respect he deserves, my dad is, in every aspect, the most tolerant to me.

I love you, my beloved dad. I love you very much.