I see so many people in their early 20's getting hitched these days and it's worrisome. Some are doing it because their friends are doing it while others are doing it for fear of a lost opportunity. Having come from a broken family at a young age, I've seen the suffering, the damage and the irresponsibility. I have a father. A father who had the impression that fatherhood was obligation of marriage. It would have made no difference if my brothers and I were made in a petri dish and as an adult, I can no longer forgive his ignorance nor his irresponsibility. As a child and teenager, I never realized what parenthood was. I was happy so long as he arrived at our doorstep each month with the RM60 pocket money he promised. He never provided any financial assistance to either my mother or my grandparents who raised us. When it was time for him to move on, that's exactly what he did. He left because there was a woman involved. He never looked back. He was MAN ! When I started schooling, all he gave was a miserable RM10 a month. This amount could not even pay for my school bus that was RM15 a month.
I recall days when I did marketing for my grandmother and how the fish monger would tell me that my father was at his stall earlier and had bought a whole "ikan kurau". We could barely afford fish. Fortunately for my father, I never knew anger then nor the value of money. I never realized how hard it was for my mother and grandmother to raise us.
The memory that's truly etched in my mind is that one night when my grandmother was warded at the University Hospital (now called University Malaya Medical Centre). My grandmother was gravely ill and the hospital bill was escalating and we were so worried about finances. The only person I knew who had the resources to help was my father and so I talked to him about it. His reply, in just four short word, made me realize then how little we all meant to him, "That's just too bad.". At that very moment, I knew I hated him but because of the support he gave during my grandmother's illness, I gave him the benefit of a doubt. We continued to keep in touch and when my grandmother passed away, he continued to be supportive. He was present throughout the seven days of prayers that was held at home and for that we are thankful. Through him, we also met many wonderful friends like Jeannie and Nick.
Following my grandmother's passing, I sold my Fiat Bravo for a Kancil. One day my father asked me to sell my car because it was a dangerous car to drive and that he would help me with the downpayment towards a better car. God is answering my prayers, I thought to myself. He's changed and he cares ! I was stupid enough to believe him. I sold my car and patiently waited for the downpayment he promised me. Months passed and I finally plucked up the courage to ask him and his reply shocked me. All he did was laugh and told me that the car that I'm supposed to buy is still in the production line ! I cried and I cried. I screamed at him and told him what I really thought of him. In my heart and from the very bottom of my soul I felt worthless, cheated, lied to and taken for granted in every sense of the word.
It has been almost 9 years now. I have severed all ties with this person whom I used to call my father. I have moved on and I do not care if he live or dies and I have made it clear to everyone that I was born of immaculate conception. I do not have a father and if he died, not to even bother informing me. As far as I am concerned, he does not exist.
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