my dad is my man - for sure.
no matter how i screw him so bad that he was mad at me, but still loves me dearly, there is always that thing deep inside me which encourages me to make him happy.
i may have been miserable daughter for the rest of my life, but i bet there are some things that are literally guilty pleasure of having me as his little girl.
all my life, i grew up with my dad as my only guardian. my parents were separated when i was about 3 or 4 years old. being the youngest girl of 5 siblings, i had my dad and my older sisters/brothers take care of me. being the smallest daughter, i found myself was emotionally tied with the figure of father in my dad.
i remember when i used to take a shower with my dad, i noticed something on his skin that was particular to my eyes and i liked touching it with my fingers. i also remembered the scar along his upper back from an accident which burnt him. also, his permanent injury on his left index finger for coming into grinder when he was working at his machine shop. it makes him unable to flexibly move the finger as the joints is no longer able to bend. to me, he is a tough man - despite all of his imperfections. i love him.
i remember when i celebrated my birthday as a little girl. dad used to throw me a party. i still can recall almost all of the details. it started with the conversation between the adults in my family about the party and everything. i had new pretty flower dress. my big sister then gave me a pile of birthday cards, which i had to write names of my friends and all about the details of the party on them, then my big brother took me with him to deliver the cards to all of my friends. the most amazing part was the cake. it was triple-stacked and pretty. on the D-day, the living room at home was altered into a party hall: colorful balloons and crepe paper were decorated it. i - the birthday girl - sat on the center of the room. big-eyed. heart skipped a beat. astonished. then, my friends came and unexpectedly, they brought with them gifts for me. the gifts were the last, but surely they were not the least. the party was somehow memorable and i know just how he managed it amazingly.
i remember, it was in the afternoon when i was playing with my older sister, dad called our names and we went outside. on the front yard, there was a toy seller. dad offered us some dolls. we were so excited that finally we picked out some dog dolls with the soft long furs. it was simply lovely to have a surprise on that day.
the greatest things of all are surely those moments when i made him happy. dating back when i was an elementary school girl, i used to be called on Monday flag ceremony to receive charter award of being one of the best students. during the ceremony, i stood on special rows among other best students, waited with my heart beating of excitement, and took a look at my father who silently waited for me, too. after coming home from school, my dad kissed both my cheeks and forehead and i was very happy for the kisses and the charter award. i already knew that i made him proud.
when i succeeded in joining the Paskibra squad, i made another important point about making him proud. after a half month being quarantined, i did my duty as morning squad, and my dad was there on the field - taking my pictures on white uniform. i thanked God for the memories.
on the contrary, i let him down, too. i never meant to be such a rebellion that he was pretty much upset. motherless, i grew up without exactly knowing how it felt to grow older with the touch of a mother figure. there were moments when i was against him as my father. there were moments when i reluctantly made him angry.
i was sorry. really am sorry.
for making him sad. upset. angry. or even, in pain.
once, i decided not to go home almost six months and preferred staying in my boardinghouse. i made a mistake and i didn't want to meet him. i thought i needed time to cool myself down for a while, but then i realized that something just went worse. my dad was sick - simply because of missing me. i was puzzled. for some of my time, i just didn't know what to do. my whole family encouraged me to come home. i was stone-headed. i insisted to avoid meeting him. but then, i finally made my way back home. i met him. he was there - my dad - and hugged/kissed me. significantly, he soon recovered. i was really sorry for letting him in pain.
i am still trying to be a better little girl of his - even though i have surely grown up. trying every single damn day!
i may not be a better daughter yet now, but the more i realize that he is my big man, the more i love him and realize that i am always his little girl.
picture: private document
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