Monday, October 20, 2008
I can't remember the last time I called my father “爸爸”. Its just 2 simple words that were probably among the first few words you learnt and said when you were a baby. Most of you probably get to say it everyday or get to greet your father most of the time. For me? Maybe 1-2 yrs back? Its been that long that I can't recall.
Why did I suddenly bring up this? Yesterday, me and Hubby were walking past the Indian temple at 四马路 and while I was facing the side to talk to Hubby, I saw a side profile of a man. A face that seemed so familiar yet far away from my memories. I was shocked for a moment and stopped and Hubby asked me what happened? For a moment, I just kept staring at the man's back while he was walking away in the opposite direction. I said that looked like my father but I wasn't sure as it was too dark and it happened too quickly. Hubby said that man seemed to be taller than my father and the way he walked didn't look like him too. I was uncertain too and I realised that I couldn't recall how tall he was and how he walked. The only way I could tell would be by looking at his left hand. My father's left hand was permanently in a half clench posture because of an accident many years back which I had heard from my mum.
According to my mum, my father stayed in Malaysia with his uncle during most of his teenage years. It was only when he had to be enlisted for NS then he returned to Singapore. He was at a coffeeshop one day intending to have coffee, not knowing that 2 gangs were there which a fight would break out later. When my father wanted to order drinks, he raised his hand and asked for "水" in Hokkien. This had mislead the gangs thought that it was a signal of sort and the fight broke out. My father was hurt in the midst of this sudden fight and his left wrist was slashed badly. He had bleed a lot and was rushed to hospital and had many stitches. Though he survived, his hand was not flexible as before. One day after discharged from the hospital, my father was holding on to a metal cup's handle which he poured hot water. Somehow, his hand become permanently fixed after that. I know it probably sounds like those drama and 夸张, but there's no reason for me to lie about it unless I was lied to.
This had caused him to had difficulties in finding a job as there wasn't much things he could do with only 1 hand back then. I don't really know when the accident happened exactly but from the time i had memories, his hand was already in that state. What I remembered was my father was one of those Lao Bengs back then who believed in 义气 and I used to tag along with him when he went to have coffee/beer with his friends. Joo Chiat was my playground and I practically grew up there till my parents divorced. I remembered my father selling newspapers and those deep fried food in between.
I was very close to my dad as a kid maybe because I was the 1st child and my father had almost never hit or scold me unlike my mum. Whenever my parents quarreled at night and I suppose mainly its my mum who started it, my mum would drag me out of bed and asked me who I wanted to follow. I would always say 爸爸 purely because my mum would always hit and scold me as a child even up to my teens. If I failed spelling or forgot my water bottle in
kindergarden, my mum would cane me or hit me and scold me. I always had cane strokes on my hands and legs up till primary school. Being hit by those clothes bamboo or burned by a ligther, getting slapped or kicked were nothing new to me. You were not allowed to cry too or you would be dragged out and locked out to be sitting in the sun till you stop crying. My father was always the one to protect me when he was around.
Until... He left the home one day. His friend had borrowed money from the loansharks and he was the guarantor. His friend had fled and thus they had come after my father instead. So he left the house and went to Malaysia into hiding. I remember loansharks spraying those O$ P$ on the walls and lifts, knocking at our doors almost every night. My mum had to work to pay off the debts so I was left alone with my sis most of the times but my sis was too young then to remember I suppose. There were frequent blackouts at my block and it didn't help that we stayed at a corner unit. I remember crying each time the loansharks came and telling them my father was no longer staying here. I think it affected me quite badly which is why till now when people raise their voice or shout at me, I start to panick and sometimes cry...
I used to hate my father then because he left us in that situation and we had lost touch for a few years. When I was in my upper primary years, he had returned to Singapore and we spent holidays staying with him. It was the time I had the greatest freedom. I wandered around wherever I liked, helped out at my father's fruit and later egg stall as I wished and hanged around with his friend's children. When I went to secondary school, we kindda drifted apart again. Maybe cos I was getting rebellious by then and felt that parents were a bother.
My mum used to say I was a duplicate of my father in terms of looks, temper and character. That wasn't meant to be good by the way. Because I didn't look like her, I was ugly. I was bad tempered, stubborn and ah lian, all bad traits I had inherited from my father according to my mum. My mum would call him and complain to him how his daughter was getting out of control and he had better take me away. My father would always pacify me, telling me to be good and obey my mum, never shouting at me. Even when I made a great mistake 8 years ago, he never blamed me too and was on my side.
We are still not in touch because I don't have his number and I am afraid someday I might regret it. But I still do not have the courage to see him and face him again. This was probably when Hubby asked me if I wanted to go make sure if that guy was my father, I didn't. I am still not prepared up till now and though I have never mentioned it before. I do miss him at times and envy others when they talk about their father. Whenever people know that I come from a single parent family, they tend to apologise though I really don't mind it after so many years. Its been almost 20 years I suppose. Its really OK and I'm not putting a strong front when I say that because the hurt and scars have faded. What I need now is time and courage to face him someday.
爸爸， 我想你。 我永远记的你说 “Ah Hoon, 要乖， 要听妈妈的话。” 希望我还能敬你一杯茶， 说声 “爸爸，喝茶."
Brenbren at 12:21 AM
