I think I miss my daddy la. Right now, things are very much clustered in my mind. The job I’m currently doing, the exam next week, the trip to London over the weekend, the dinner to attend next week, the final academic week, the final assignment and the flight ticket that I’ve received this morning. These are the things which I will usually talk to him about. These are the things that make our conversations last hours on the phone. And I miss talking to him.
Whatever happened around me seems to make me think about him even more. When friends ask, would I like to take a ride on London Eye, I said, no, I’ve been on it with my parents. When I went to Harrods, I remembered the time he dropped the lit to a teapot, broke it and didn’t even have to pay for it. Whenever I bought a handbag, no matter how beautiful it is, my favourite would be the one he bought me for my 21st birthday. Whenever friends asked how do I survive with the allowance, I told them may parents taught me to use whatever I have and not to ask for more. And then I remember the fact that he told Mama I was the most independent of all because I would never ask for more money and just use whatever I have or what they have given me. Then there are times when I still buy six mugs and six glasses, each and every time, the fact hit me, there’s only five of us now. Not six. Not anymore. When I was home during the summer, I still think that he has gone for a meeting in KL and will return in the evening. When I continue sleeping after Subuh prayers on the couch in the living room, I could smell him, his presence. When I listen to songs, songs about fathers, it hit me that I don’t have a father anymore. When I buy things for Mama, my sisters and my brother, or when friends are looking for things to buy for their fathers, I realised that I don’t have to buy anything for him. Because he’s gone.
My sister and I are always making jokes that he’s not around and it will always be funny only to both of us. Like this one.
alinyussuff : ok le
alinyussuff : kamu ngan makcik tu dpt la senza
alinyussuff : mama got handbag
alinyussuff : baby bro cari tshirt hard rock london la
alinyussuff : daddy?
alinyussuff : uh uh
alinyussuff : oh oh
alinyussuff : sob sob srroott
alinyussuff : T_T
alizazy : daddy dpt al-fatihah la
alizazy : ape lagi
alinyussuff : alhamdulillah
alinyussuff : kami suke jawapan tuh
alizazy : hikhikhik
And there are other jokes which I don’t think are appropriate to be shared. It would be better to keep it to ourselves.
It has been more than six months now and I still refuse to refer him as Arwah. I deny myself from using that term. I don’t want to. Because I still feel his presence around me.
Gosh, I miss him so much that writing this creates lumps in my throat.
I miss you, Ayah. Will you please come into my dreams?
