Papa, the last time I communicated with you was through text. And back then texting was very expensive and I found out you spent S$92 on texts from overseas. Don’t know if it’s accurate, but somehow that number is stuck in my head. All I know is that it was extremely expensive for a couple of texts, and it made me feel like it was important to you to reach me. I was touched and comforted that you, who were always so prudent with money, would do that. Right now, that money means nothing and the connection, everything.
And you were prudent with yourself, but never with us. And to think, before this, you never texted. My deepest regret is not taking a picture of those texts on my old Nokia. They are all lost now. But maybe then it was too painful and traumatic to.
I think I wanted to forget that time and just remember the precious moments before. When we used to sit together in the hall on our recliners, side by side, reading. You said it was to save on air-conditioning to be together, rather than in two separate rooms, but I knew you wanted to be with me. Because in the end neither of us read. We talked. Mostly initiated by you. The best distraction ever and I’m so grateful we had that time at least. If we hadn’t, I think I would be completely destroyed.
Why wasn’t I mature enough to respond more, to listen more attentively, be less flippant, to ask questions. Now I have a million unanswered. Oh how I have kicked myself since. How I’ll never forgive myself.
And I miss you so much Papa. I know if social media was around then, you would have your own blog, just like me, and we would be each other’s biggest fans.
You were always the best at everything to me. You were always better than me in every way. I just never told you.
It’s been almost 19 years and I’m finally ready. Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Please Universe, let this reach you. I don’t know any other way.
