Hari Bapa II
A piece from my sis just broke me to tears, truth is I cannot hold myself up when it comes to all the sacrifices made and endured by my parents for our sakes.
I wanted to pen down something about my dad on Fathers Day but thought better of it for the same reason. It could get quite emotional.
Save all the emo part, for a change, I am writing what fun my dad is.
When we kids were small, my dad loved to pick on us, calling us weird names that stay till now. Nothing bad, just meaningless names that he made up himself and later became trademarks for each of us. My brother was called Oncumat for whatever reason we till now could not figure that out. And what about Gergau??
When we kids were small, my dad loved to keep us curious by probing simple trick like closing his palm so tight that none of us could possibly pry it open and asked us to see what was in it. He would hold it so tight, not until one of us cried or my mom started to get into it that he would quit, but without telling us what was actually he was holding. I later found out that it was nothing.
When we kids were small, my dad loved to ask this ‘hard’ question like who we loved more, mom or dad. Well, I did that to my son and he clearly told me a straight answer that I was making him all confused coz he could not love any one of us more than the other.
When we kids were small, dad’s favorites “ultimate revelation” story was telling any one of us that we were not their real children. They actually found us somewhere (his favorite place was tong sampah) and cleaned us up before adopting us. And we would run to mom to know whether that was the truth.
When we kids were small, I remember how upset we were when my dad pulled our hand close to him before he gave out a good gas that vibrated every knuckles of our hand.
When we kids were small, none of us could beat dad in Dam Haji, including my mom. Wonder why?. But on many occasion, my mom caught him cheating – like moving the buah dam twice or putting back the buah dam in the games!
When we kids were small, months before raya, my dad would take us all to town to buy us baju raya and once in a while a treat of satay. This outing was a big deal for me, the day I saw many cars on the road. The fun part was when it came to crossing the road, my dad would hold me and my brother arms so tight and lifted them high that out feet could barely touch the ground. Imagine how comical we must have looked trying to run along with him with our feet barely touching the road.
When we kids were small, my dad taught us mengaji right after every maghrib. He was serious though but we kids were poking each other having fun, the height of all funs was when it came to seeing my sister mengaji dengan air mata bergenang. I remember how relieved we were if during the course of that lesson, somebody knocked at the door and told dad that he was called at work.
There are loads more that I can’t think of. My dad is my role model of being a father. Being a father myself, frankly, I am not even anywhere close to half of what and who he is.