The other day my dear friend was expressing with a tender heart that the trip he will be going with his daughters will perhaps be the last trip of them together.
Because she will be a teen-adult soon and plausibly will go to trips with her friends from then on as the tradition in the west is.
Though he said he has made the girls ready possibly capable in everyway, so when time comes for them to depart from the nest, they can fly high and mightily.
He has also perhaps been mentally preparing himself for accepting the fact as possibly naturally as inevitable it is; however, still undeniably saddening.
I can assume, he has also been attempting to creat as much sweet memories as he can while they are home.
I wonder if his efforts to be the best man in their loves will ever comprehended by them.
I wonder whether they will be able to perceive what it means to own a father like that.
As well, will they ever be able to construe what it takes for him to be a father like that, and that just being a father socially and with a blood-bond does not mean it comes effortlessly to BECOME A FATHER FOR ONE TO CALL HIM HOME.
His efforts and actions, his acceptance, perseverance, dedication, and of course unconditional love, affection made me sort of jealous.
Not that my father loves or cherishes me any less.
Yet, I, as lamenting as it is, know that due to the traditional and cultural affairs of ours, my father could not become the father I dreamed of or he wanted to be.
I miss my father so much when he is right there, at my arms length.
I longed for his attention almost for all my lifetime.
I often would asked my mother about my childhood while we did not yet being crumbled under the social, cultural, and mostly religious prejudices.
When we had no distance to maintain, no nothing would be counted as shamelessness or inappropriate.
My father is a good human being, probably the best father I can ask for in my circumstances.
Now you might frowned at the word "probably"
It is "probably" because not that I would EVER wish for a change of father, but for I do wholeheartedly wish if I and my father could be born in a different time or place.
Where we did not have to draw boundaries religiously, traditionally, socially when the daughter grow up.
Where we can comfortably exchange words "Love you, dad" and "Love you more, sweetheart" without being awkward around.
Where we could travel together, go around eating out, talk and argue about our lives and perspectives.
And mostly, where we could express ourselves more often then regretting everything alone within our boundaries and with only our deprived soul.
In my early youth, I had my part of sulking and pouting towards my fayher for being such a foolish father.
I used to be very angry for his nonchalance, pouted constantly for his distance, despaired for his silence, hated sometimes for his foolishness and shortcomings.
But when I left home and relentlessly forced forward towards life all alone, I learned to forgave my father.
I found forgiveness for my poor fagher.
Not because he is wrong but because his circumstances are responsible for what he could not become.
But I know regardless that he has always loved me, prioritised me even when my mother would not take my side.
Perhaps he could not be any nearer to me, but he never has left me.
He could not show me but never he has stopped loving me.
He could not say actively but his actions have efforts in to express regardless of failure or success.
I believe at least I am fortunate than the most.
That is how fathers in our society particularly for women.
The more we grew, the distance between us as well increase, growing apart further and more.
Yes, we don’t leave our home that early like the culture in the West.
Perhaps, which is why our fathers do not contemplate on the matter that "they will fly soon, so better made some effort while they are home!"
Image source
Hahh! I don’t even have a picture witg my father! And it is the story of us, same for the e girls
If we had that culture, I wonder if I would have tons of memories to cherish with my father as well.
All the contents are mine, until it’s mentioned.
