It's night. My eyes are laden with the heavy dew of sleep, and yet it is not even 10pm. Must have been the late night last night trying to find html to spruce up my diary. =)

Today was my father's birthday. By the most terrible, inexplainable, unimaginable turn of events, I FORGOT HIS BIRTHDAY! *gasp* I can't believe I forgot the most important day in my father's entire life when I know he would never forget mine.

My father has been a pillar of support for me all my life. As long as I can remember, he was on my side. Yes, there were times, as a young little girl, when I felt that my father was an evil villian sent of Hades to torture the life out of innocent (as if!) little children like me. But now, he is the one who understands my passage of growth. He is the one who reminds me of myself. He is the one who lets me spread my wings, but knows exactly when to knock me back down to earth.

I think my father had a tough job. He had to watch me grow, reform, and adapt. I remember him holding me when my best friend in primary 3 had said the four dreaded words: I don't friend you. I remember him helping me out when I couldn't decide which school to go to after my PSLE. I remember him listening - really listening - when I just needed to express my thoughts about drugs and beer. Most recently, I remember him being a shield of comfort when my heart was broken for the first time.

It's strange how the memories that stand out in my mind are those of him being there when I am sad or in need of help. Only after much thought do I remember him celebrating birthday parties, showering me with gifts, trying to teach me how to bowl (he hasn't succeeded yet).

I also remember him disappointing me terribly. At the tender age of 9, I watched as my mom crumpled into tears over my father's disloyalty. He did not attend a ceremony where I received honours in English because he preferred to go bowling. Yet the good always offsets the bad, because he is my father, and I love him so much. But you know what? He loves me more.

So Dad, you're balding. I tease you about it mercilessly. You've reached the age of 43 when many roadbumps along the way. You're still a fit and active football player, although Mom and I want to send you a walking stick next year. You still act like a 12 year old around my friends and make corny, embarressing jokes. But when it comes down to it...

I love you Dad. Thanks for always being there for me.

< bass | treble >

- - 2006-05-29
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on The Ineffable - 2006-03-27
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