I rarely get to spend my weekends to do the things I love.
Last weekend, fortunately, I had an ample of time which I filled with reading A Doctor In The House (yeah, still haven't finished reading the book, I am only halfway there) alternating with being online.
Online, I began to read Father's blogs again. Father had two blogs, one was dedicated for his political views, one was reserved for the general things that had happened in his ordinary life. He started to write in 2004 until before he went to Mekah for his second Hajj in 2010.
In one of his earliest posts, he wrote the purpose of his personal blog is to help his family to understand him further.
He also described himself quite accurately- a very serious person with little sense of humour and has a strong character.
Boy, I miss him. He is my Father.
Analysing his personal blog, I noticed a recurrent theme. He too, missed his father so much. He regretted for not being able to provide him with a luxurious life because at that time, he was not capable yet. But, before my grandfather passed away, Father had the chance the bring him to the best Neurologist for his treatment. My grandmother was not very happy seeing my grandfather becoming dependent on the pills though. This was because her supertitious belief. Soon, his health deteriorated and Father watched him breathed the last breathe. According to Father, my grandfather asked for Father during those critical times. When Father was near, my grandfather was not able to utter the words. That's when the Angel of Death finally cut his string of life, leaving Father wondering what was it that my grandfather wanted to say.
How it is like to be left with that kind of question, not knowing, for 10 years?
Since Father was an avid writer, I guess that is something that we have in common. Probably, it is something that runs in the family.
In his time, Father used to write numerous e-mails to The Star, especially, and a number of times, got his letters published under a pseudonym. I don't write those kinds of letters, but I used to have many blogs. Zaman dulu-dulu, the time when I had no privacy, I had to write poems so only I can understand. My niece, she's going to be thirteen next year, had written in her blog fictional stories, it's quite impressive.
Other than us three, one from each generation, I don't think anybody else in the family possess this gift.
Father also wrote about the harship he had to go through as a child. They were so poor. Every year, Hari Raya clothes only came in the form of two new school uniforms and nothing else. He always told himself he would only celebrate if he succeeded in his studies.
I admire his determination to study hard, obtain a scholarship and change his ways life. No wonder he was so careful with money.
Probably, the reason I want to get pregnant so badly, is because I want to introduce my children to Father as early as I can. I want my children to be inspired by him because Father is such a great role model. He had so many minor diplomas and degrees and he still studied even though he had retired.
Sometimes...And I know this is bad. But sometimes, I wish my husband's background were better than what it is. We are so different. We don't even share the same priority in life (even though I am starting to convert him). But sometimes, I wish I could scream at his nephews or his brothers to change their attitudes. I understand why so many were against us. But this is love.
3 hours ago