HomeBlogDancing with Angels: A Parent’s Perspective

Dancing with Angels: A Parent’s Perspective

My husband is having an animated conversation with my soon-to-be 3 year old, Kirtu. Bursts of giggles fill the room. The ever familiar words hang in the air, “Even when you are 80 years old, you will still be my little baby, Kirtu. You will always be Appa’s baby.” My thoughts drift to my father, whom I lost early this year.

I was always the apple of my father’s eye. Though I have a younger sibling, it was very obvious that for my father, I probably stopped growing at the age of 10 and it seemed that I was the baby of the family. He constantly worried about my safety, whether I was 5, 15 or even 35. I remember his words ringing loud and clear… “No going out alone at night.”; “Make sure you are always alert when using the stove.”; “Don’t drive fast, it doesn’t matter if others are honking at you and you’re on the fast lane, take your time, be safe.” These were just some of the many, many cautionary words that my father would tell me each time he saw me or we spoke.

My father had a sense of humour as big as his loving heart. I remember vividly, one day when he walked into the kitchen and suddenly bared his teeth and my mother and I were shocked/speechless/amused that Father had on a pair of fake vampire fangs! He was the life of the party, with his witty jokes and funny retorts. There rarely was a time when somebody in his company would not break into chuckles or full blown guffaws.

Although my father loved goofing around, he was also the kind of man who had his feet firmly planted on the ground. Even as he successfully climbed the career ladder, he was a humble and simple man, with simple needs. He was prudent in money matters and because of his acumen, was able to afford an impeccable education for me.

My father was an avid jogger. He ran no matter rain or shine. One evening, he set out on his run as usual but the only difference was, he came home with a stray pup. I was ecstatic as any animal lover would be, to welcome the furry bundle of mischief into my arms. We named our pup Rambo. Father was a huge Sylvester Stallone fan! Rambo wreaked havoc in our house but Father turned a blind eye, and even patiently accomodated Rambo nibbling on his toes every night, just because he knew that my brother and I loved the little pup. When we were to move from one state to another, we were unable to take Rambo along but Father made sure he found a loving home for our fur baby.

I remember the first time my father laid eyes on my baby girl. He was so afraid to hold her, as she looked so delicate, all swaddled in blankets. Father couldn’t help his snorts of delight. I could see pure love and joy radiate from him. When I had my second baby, my delivery had a few hiccups. Even through the blurry haze of anaesthesia wearing off, I saw concern and worry written all over his face… and the relief that washed over him when I was finally discharged with my baby was evident on his face.

I will always treasure the impromptu visits he made to my house to see me and the kids. He never came empty handed. Bananas for Kirtu or my favourite economy noodles from the wet market, frozen chapathis for my husband, coconut water when El Nino struck and the heat was unbearable, and all kinds of fish from the fish market. During both my confinement period, he made sure my refrigerator was stocked to the brim with all the foods that would boost my milk supply. He went out of his way to medicine halls to purchase herbs that I needed to make my soups.

One of the aspects of my father that I will always remember fondly was his passion for food. He lived to eat. He enjoyed food of all types but his all time favourites were my mother’s cooking, banana leaf rice, mutton curry, char koay teow, fried bihun and anything sweet! Oh yes he had such a sweet tooth, my father. This trait, not only have I inherited, but so has my daughter!

I have a million memories of my father. From the time I was a little girl hoisted up on his shoulder, up to his last days. He always treated me like a princess, and made me feel special and beautiful in and out. There was a time when he used to say I look like Princess Diana although I look nothing like her. And then in later years he compared me to Angelina Jolie, knowing fully well that many people saw her as an epitome of beauty. I was so touched because although I was a plain Jane, he saw beauty in me and that brought out the best in me.

My father’s demise was a shock to all of us. We knew that he was ill but never did we once think that we would lose him in the blink of an eye.

These past few days, when I am alone with my thoughts, I can’t help wondering what Father is up to. Is he running on a tranquil and scenic road in the Heavens above? Is he watching down on us, chuckling at my mischievous toddlers? Is he telling me to be safe and to take good care of my family? A comforting thought would be to know that he is tucking into a plate of his favourite food and a steaming hot cup of coffee, free of any pain and suffering, smiling down on us.

Rest in peace my dearest Papa and know that you were one of the most noble, who ever walked this earth.

 

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