On Life...Change...Growing up

16th June 2012

This is the day of the turning point of my life. Another milestone. A life-changing milestone. It's a date I wish to remember, forever, even-if-I-have-dementia forever. If I were to tattoo a date to my body, this would be it. It's THAT big.

I can't go into the specifics due to various reasons. And I resent that. But know this, it's a good thing.

Ok lets talk about something I can talk about.

Father's Day.

I used to have a great relationship with my father. Duh, only son in a chinese family. Not to mention I'm the ONLY male descendent in our extended family that supposed to carry and pass down the family name. You see, there are only 2 males amongst my father's too-many-to-count siblings. My father and my uncle. My uncle had 2 daughters. I don't have a brother. So you see, they all depended on me to carry the family name. And the Chinese takes it very seriously about the family name. So I'm kinda screwed. But whatever. Lets not dwell on it at the moment.

But I digressed.

Something happened when I was 4 - 5 years old that changed the dynamic of my relationship with my father. I had a little trouble in potty-training when I was little. So every night my father would wake me up and bring me to the toilet to pee. I guess that particular night my father was in a horrible mood, and he always had a foul temper to begin with, and I was being a nuisance not wanting to wake up. That night, he was so furious, he took the cane (or was it a belt?) and started hitting me as hard as he could. Even my mother couldn't stop him. I still remember after the incident, my mother was crying while applying cooling salve on my skin. That's the night I started distancing myself from him. I could never bring myself to be close to him anymore.

I don't think any of my sisters knew about the incident. And I've never talked about it before. Ever. Now I feel kinda relieved to be finally able to write about it. Letting it out.

I don't talk much to my father unless it's necessary and only when I couldn't avoid it. Like on Father's day, for example. Or on his birthday. My mother expects me to call him and wish him, and I always keep the conversation short. These are only the few occasions that I talk to him. I just don't know what to say to him anymore.

Don't get me wrong. I don't hate him. I just don't love him the way I should, the way any son should.

So here it goes. Happy Father's Day, father.

Saw this on facebook. Immensely hilarious. And creative.