dad

The kid next door learnt soccer from his dad when he was 10. His dad was there when he first went to school. There were also times when they roughed it out together at those hiking, cycling trips. Occasionally, they played tennis, bowled and dad taught kid about girls, impressing them. He respected his dad, as much as his dad loved him. His dad was a fine man, and Kid took after him.

Above - a figment of my imagination, for what it feels like to have Dad, I don’t know. I still remember the day dad left home. The day he pushed me away. The day when I was only 3 years. Sadly, that is my only recollection of dad. Nothing pleasant, nothing fond. Sometimes, I still wish to have dad. Frankly, there are times I don’t know who to turn to. I need a male figure sometimes for me to look up to, for me to emulate, to consult. There’s still mum you say. Yes, but there are things you don’t tell mum. Mums don’t rough it out with their sons anyway.

Sometimes I feel really envious of friends when they make passing comments about their dads.

‘My dad’s bringing me to play golf this weekend.’
‘Dad got me a great suit for prom.’
‘Dad’s driving me home after work.’
‘This is my dad’s racket.’

I can just feign a smile. I don’t know what it feels to have dad.

Grad Night, Prize Presentation, Commissioning Parade... Those times I wish I have a Dad that will gaze at me and tell me how proud I’ve made him feel, how proud he is to be my Dad. And me reciprocating that sense of pride. I never knew how it feels and I think I’ll never know anyway.

Daddy?