Aniysh Rahim: Happy Father's Day, Papa

It's Fathers' Day today.

As I was scrolling through my 444 instagram post on my profile, diligently looking for a photo of me and my dad or just my dad alone, to post it on Instagram because everyone else on my newsfeed seems to be doing that, a bitter wave of realization hit me.

There was only one.

Out of that 444 post, I only dedicated 1 measly post to my dad 97 weeks ago.

That is like 0.22% of my Instagram feed.

I was a little taken aback with this realization. I had to double check my Instagram posts and I kept telling myself, "that can't be it, right?". I sounded like I was trying to convince myself that I cannot possibly be the kind of daughter who actually forget to tell the world about her own dad right? In contrast, I have like about more than 10 post dedicated just for my mum, I probably have more than that featuring my siblings and cousins, a dozen more on just my boyfriend and quite possibly twice that number on my selfies alone.

Wha... It cannot be true, no? Surely, I would have talked about my dad more?

However, it is true. We usually talk more about our mums, because they are usually the one who are most active in our lives. For me, I saw mama at home more than I saw papa when I was growing up. Mama was a full-time housewife while papa worked the 8-5 job. Sometimes, papa had to leave us over the weekend to go to a plant in Batam and annually, he will leave us for a period of about a month or two when he had to leave to Poland or some other countries for work.

In studies, whenever I achieved something, I tend to tell mama about it instead of papa because I grew up knowing papa have very little to say about it. Mama, on the other hand, will probably give me a kiss on my cheeks and praise me to high heavens and let me choose a chocolate or two when she fetched me from school. Papa is a man of very few words and emotions.

At 23, I still have yet to see him angry, upset or really happy. I have never seen him cry, or hug me in excitement because he was happy about something or even sad. He hides his emotions well. And for that, I thank him.

You will probably never read this, but if you ever do :

Thank you Papa, for all the things you have done for our family. For sticking through the hardest of time and for being so patient with me when I was growing up. I am pretty sure I was quite a difficult teen to deal with when I was a teenager, but thank you for never laying a finger on me. Thank you for being an amazing father, for showing me what kind of man I deserve in my life. Thank you for staying quiet even when you have all the right to be mad at me and throw abusive words at me when I truly deserve it. Thank you for all the times you get me all my cravings when I told you about it when I was smaller. I still remember how you were worried sick and how you took care of me when I had chicken pox when I was 7. I was sleeping in the living room and everyday after work, you will check up on me and see if my fever subsided. On days when I purposely act like I was asleep in the car because I was too lazy to move, you would carry me up and all the way into my bed and tuck me in. And you do that with Yam too. I remember too, waiting with Yam at the gate and welcoming you home and you would carry me and Yam would probably be hanging on one of your leg because you were carrying me (heh heh). I will never forget how everyone in the family, be it Mama or my siblings or my cousins, will stress on how you always favour me than the others.

Also, thank you for cutting the umbilical cord off Mama when she was giving birth to me and making me the only one in the family that you managed to cut. Because before me, it was not permissible and after me, when it was Yam's turn, I apparently will not let you leave me to get into the room to cut it off hehe.