February 13th…

“I know that throughout my life I have struggled to forgive my father. Now, as I get older, I wish most of all that he had been able to find a way to forgive himself.”
― Madeleine Thien


February 13th
Today is my dad’s birthday.


I lost him 6 years ago. Physically. I think I lost him years before that.

I feel sad on his birthday.

I feel sad on Father’s day.

I feel really sad when I see dads with their daughters.
I used to be a daddy’s girl. A million years ago when the world was beautiful and I could hear birds’ songs. Now. It’s. Bleak.

I used to be more cynical. I didn’t see the point in believing anymore. People lie. People who love you would intentionally hurt you and they would apologise so you have to develop thick skin so the hurt doesn’t get through anymore. That’s survival.

I used to think I had daddy issues. I didn’t like boys. I never wanted to get married. Kids? I was disgusted by the idea. But you can only blame your parents for so long before you take charge of your own life.

So. I woke up. I made the conscious effort to forgive and be forgiven. But it was too late. My daddy is gone. He waited to see me one last time. A strong Muslim till the end, but he asked me to say The Lord’s Prayer on his dying bed. He was asking for forgiveness. By saying the prayer, I had forgiven him.



But I just wanted to to say one last time to him:
Papa. I’m sorry for being so angry at you. For everything, I just couldn’t do. I hurt myself by hurting you. Every day, you send me a sign that you are watching over me and I’m so content, because now, I know you are always there. I love you, Papa.
Happy birthday.



The walls are still up. Do I want to get married? I don’t know. Kids? I don’t know. Maybe. But I’m toying with the idea of it. I’m toying with the idea of long term commitment. So, maybe. Just, maybe.




I’m not sure what this post was. I don’t even know what I’m trying to achieve but it’s my daddy’s birthday and  I felt the need to write this. Sigh.