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Reminiscing about Daddy

I was eight years old, sitting in the study room, bent over a table of assignments, pencil scrawling out a word after another.

It was 8pm (late for someone who’s supposed to asleep by 9).

He walked in quietly, with heavy footsteps that went ‘thump… thump… thump’. His shadow casted over me and I sensed his presence. My heart jerked.

‘Qiqi, Daddy loves you.’

My pencil dropped. Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t turn around to face him.

‘Qiqi, Daddy’s going to Taiwan tomorrow…’

The tears flowed out of my eyes like an unclogged sink, like a running tap, like a river with no end.

In between the wheezing and the sniffing and the wet sticky thing that was my face, I faced him and whispered

‘Daddy, when will you be back?’

He looked backed at me sadly, his face red, with tears almost breaking out. It was the first time I had ever seen him so close to tears.

‘I don’t know, Qiqi… But I’ll come back to visit you. And you can come to find me too…’

‘Really, daddy?’

He nodded and folded me into his arms.

‘Don’t forget daddy okay?’

‘I will never forget you daddy. I love you…’ I whimpered.

That night I fell asleep in his arms, and the next morning, he was gone.

A year later

That night my mum had to persuade, beg, threaten, bribe, scold, to make me get into bed for sleep.

I fell asleep eventually. Excitement had worn me out.

Woken up the next morning by my body’s innate body alarm, I found myself hugging a small new pillow. It was blue and had a ‘Hello Kitty’ picture sewed on it. I jumped out of bed and shouted ‘Daddy!’

He was back with tons of stuff he thought I would love. He, who would rather hang out around some bookshop, had spent all his weekends circling shopping centres, day markets and night markets buying things he knew I would love. He, a man, patroned shops selling things meant for little girls like me, alone, looking for things I like.

My father rarely expressed his love though words. Instead, his actions meant much more. He had never wanted children. But when I was born, he put in his heart and soul to love me, to make me happy, but to make me strong and independent and… to be a father, a daddy to turn to , to receive love and to show love to. He is the best father I could ever wish for. Yes, he may not be a perfect person. He may not be the best husband or the most responsible breadwinner. But he is my father.

Today, daddy tugged my ponytail. He gave me that smile that is only for me, not for my mum, not for my brother. That smile, that warm, loving smile, that beautiful smile, that softens me, that momentarily helps me forget all my problems.

Daddy, I’ll love you and I’d loved you forever.

In life, we are father and daughter.

In heaven, so will we be.

Thank You God, for giving me this earthly father. Thank you that I have two fathers who love me so unconditionally.

Thank You.

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Comments
4 Responses to “Reminiscing about Daddy”
  1. j3ss kitch3n says:

    this is such a wonderful memory… you are so close with your dad how i wish i could say the same for myself sigh..

  2. As the new father of a darling 8 month old baby girl that story brought tears to my eyes. I can only hope my daughter has such fond memories of her daddy when she grows up.

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  1. […] Drink milk! Skim milk anyway. In a Hello Kitty cup. I don’t EVER want to grow up. Wanna use it FOREVER! My daddy bought it for me! […]



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