Beans
I am aware that it is Father’s Day tomorrow and my mind just started racing this afternoon trying to find ways to express my eternal gratitude and love for my father. I always suck at making things special. I am not creative nor am I ever smart enough to build special, unique, creative designs of complicated, but special cards. Our family has always been very boring when it comes to special days. We usually just wish each other and if it’s somebody’s birthday, we’ll get a cake. That’s just how it is with us. Normally, I would be the one trying to find ideas to somehow make that day different from years before but I don’t know why, none of my plans ever came through.
Meh.
I’ve always expressed myself best through writing. Not the “with references” type though. I hate those.
So, I was going through my phone. I wanted to look for a picture of Babah, and I knew I only had a few of them but I was hoping there was going to be at least ONE picture of Babah and I. I was so hoping that I would get lucky there but no, none. I’m not the type to be mushy and post sweet things about their parents on Instagram or Twitter or Facebook because, really, if your parents are not able to see those posts, what’s the point really, right? But I really want to write about Babah; I feel like I haven’t really shown him how much I really love him. I feel like, I’ve misunderstood him so many times growing up, I have put him in a bad light and I don’t think he deserved any of those negative treatments from me.
When I think back of my childhood memories and Babah was in them, I would smile. Babah used to be so scary. He was (okay la, still) the quiet type and so garang. I still remember how my sister would cover her ears and hide when it came to situations involving the thunder and Babah being angry. He’s mellowed down over the years, no more la marah marah, no more stopping the car on the highway and opening the car door threatening to leave us there if we would not stop fighting and arguing. He used to teach me how to read the Iqra’ and even the Quran before sending me to an Ustazah in Standard 2 or 3. I remembered how he used to make me feel so scared if I didn’t come home to bring one of the top 3 numbers in class stamp on my face. There was this one time when I got number 9 in class and he was tutoring me Mathematics at my grandparents’ place that night. I think my aunt brought back ABC and Cendol and my dad did not let me eat the ABC until I got the Mathematic equations right. And, I cried every time Babah tutored me.
Every.
Single.
Time.
And even after I was done with my work, he kept on making me feel so bad that I had gotten number 9 in class. It’s funny, really because now, he’s so different. Sometimes I feel like I could never be good enough for my parents, for my dad. Even until now, I feel like I don’t contribute much, I don’t really make my parents proud, I’m not doing anything that’s making my parents go “ah, that’s my girl” no matter how many times my parents reassure me that I am doing good, I’m doing okay. But, this is not a pity post. Put those psychotic feelings of mine aside, my dad made it clear to me that he would always support me in anything I do. I am very blessed. My dad would suggest places for me to travel, things for me to do and when we talk, when my dad actually TALKS (he doesn’t do this often), he’s just the coolest person to be around. I felt farthest away from him during my teenage years. I remember this one time before I left for Intec and before he left for Iran, Babah came in to my room and he just laid there on my bed next to me. We just laid there, without talking, no songs, just the sound of the ceiling fan swish swoshing. Then he started telling me about his childhood, about his parents; he said the reason why he would never send his kids to boarding school is because he went through it and my mom went through it and he wouldn’t want us to be away from our own parents. He also told me the story about him and Mama. Mama is his first love. I was the closest to Babah when I first got to Melbourne and Babah was alone in Iran. I remember how much Babah used to text me, telling me about the littlest things and he would call me at least once a week and we would Skype. The first time we Skyped was the first time ever Babah said “I love you” to me. Mama had never said those words to me yet at that time. I cried after hanging up on Skype, I just felt like I was so close to my dad, the closest I had ever been but I was so far from him, he was in Iran and I was in Melbourne.
My dad could be seen as a quiet, moody person but I know deep down, he probably just doesn’t have anything to say at that time. I know that feeling because I have those episodes. He’s seen as quiet with his family but when he’s with his friends, wohohohohohohohoho, brader be so loud. Hahahah. I don’t really get Babah most of the time but what I do know is that he is very strong and very solid but his heart; he has the kindest and biggest heart. Babah is so generous, he doesn’t berkira at all, even when times are hard, he never berkira. Babah is very compassionate to people and to animals; I know that’s a trait he got from his mother and Izzat and Iskandar got it from him and Mama also. Mama and Babah are never materialistic. I never see them shop just for the sake of it and I always look up to that. I try so hard to refrain myself from being boros; I don’t want to spend on things I don’t need and I learnt that from my parents. My parents have always told us and reminded us again and again that wealth can’t help you much in the Hereafter. I know for sure that I grew up with music. Babah plays the guitar. I still remember him playing “Sweet Child of Mine” every night in Bahrain in his corner on the red sofa. That was HIS corner. Babah introduced me to Queen, the Beatles, Santana, Wings hahahah. As always, if I want to get in to more details and list down everything about Babah, I can have 70 books and still won’t be enough.
Happy Father’s Day, Babah. I know I don’t say it much but I love you so so so much. You have so much faith in me and the reason why I’m still surviving life is because you and Mama believe that I can make it and you never fail to assure me that success in within my reach. I am nothing without you and Mama. Thank you so much for everything; the experiences you’ve given us by bringing us all along to travel with you; thank you for shaping the person I am today for without you, I am nothing. Okay, rindu sangat, rasa nak balik now :(
If anyone ever held me like this and asked me to stay I would cry. Physical appreciation, you’re doing it right.
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this.
(Source: eu-phobia, via jellymichi)
