I remember about a decade back, when I was still a kid, life was pretty difficult for me. The 'quiet fat kid' and 'the hopeless one' was what they used to call me. I had no realistic dreams, talent, passion, nor ambition. I remember being told, "You will never learn a thing, stupid.".When a teacher asked me, "Aaron, what do you want to be when you grow up?". I replied to him, "I want to be a grocer". He stood there baffled, one is because it sounded like I have no ambition and two; he actually didn't know what a grocer is as I recalled he had atrocious English. While the rest of the class laughed. The teacher then told me in Malay, "Why not set a better target like your friends? Like being a pilot, businessman or a lawyer?". I knew the world isn't so fair to work that way.
All I wanted back then was to stay at home and hide away from those who hurt me and enjoyed my suffering, I dislike school because everyone misunderstood me including my teachers.
Oh, how can I forget how I was being abused verbally by almost everyone,
Teachers used to think that I was stupid, my classmates insulted and gossiped about me by calling me 'fat-ass' and ' a stupid bastard'. My father once growled at me saying "I wish you were never born!".I remember I used to stand in the corner for 3 hours for not finishing my homework. I remember I was being beaten up by bullies until I was unconscious, I remember my father would come back from work every night wielding a rattan cane to release his tension at his only son until his back and thighs bleed, and there was even once my father threw a wooden chair at me and beat me with it until I can stop crying. He would hit harder if I carry on crying, I only stopped crying because I was already unconscious. I was left on the floor half dead and numb while the rest of my family members just watch as he beats me.
I remember how much I envy the other children at school, being pampered by their parents and have plenty of friends. I remember how my father, the person that I look up to turn into the person I hated the most. I remember how I cannot voice out my frustrations, just because I am the youngest member of my family. I remember how much I hate hearing my relatives say "Gosh, you look exactly like Alan when he was younger. Such a chip of the old block.", I really hate to be compared to my father although I used to look up to him. Yes I remember every moment of it, every ounce of pain by just thinking of it. Such scars in my head cannot be removed.
I was afraid of everything,afraid of being bullied in school and in my own home and heck, even afraid to speak up for myself. And at times, I hope I would be ran over by a car to end my life and my sinister mind always tend to curse the people who tormented me.I grew up with so much anger, like a time-bomb waiting to explode. I had to stay silent and suppress all the hatred inside of me. I have lost faith in God, I always pray that my suffering would end but it just keeps coming. Seems that He never heard me cry. I cry almost every night of my life silently while everyone else were sleep. Being in primary school, I only had one friend which was the smartest student in the school named Gan. He was a child prodigy, a child with so much knowledge of the world at such a young age and questions that provoked the mind of teachers. He was the only person I could talk to and make friends, yet they talk bad about him because he hangs out with me; the unpopular kid. Gan was the first person who I can truly call, a friend. On my final year at school, my English teacher was pretty concerned about me as well towards my emotions as well as academics. She was a true teacher as well, she gave me free tuition classes to brush up on my English where I started scoring high marks for it. Eventually I was the top scorer in the subject. I remember an inspiring quote that she told me,
"To succeed, do not follow examples. Be an example yourself"
My father suddenly stopped working for months, and he came up to me to tell that I am growing up already and have to start behaving like a man. He requested my mother to get me a phone and a set of keys to the house. Nobody told me why was he being so nice to me of a sudden. But with each day, I can see his physical energy slowly seeping away. I can tell by the way the strokes of his rattan getting weaker and weaker. I thought I was the one getting stronger instead, so I started being rebellious. And he came up to me one day asking me, "Hey, you hated me so much right? Show me how much you hated me then!". I broke the doors in my house with kicks and punches, made holes on them and got myself injured and bleeding. That somehow relieved my anger, yet leaving me a sense of guilt from the inside. After all, he is my father.
Another few months pass on, his muscular physique started to shrink. He have been visiting the hospital very often and my mother told me he is okay. Truth was, he was suffering from colon cancer and she's afraid that I am unable to accept the fact that my father will be gone in another 3 months. I never knew about it until there was an abnormal growth on his belly that discharges a yellow liquid. He started fainting in the toilet often and fell unconscious during dinner. He had to take morphine syrup every three hours to bear the pain. I was still young and I did not know what was really going on, but I know that my father is terminally ill but little do I know that he was dying.
He was admitted to Hospital University Kuala Lumpur's ward, and we have been doing frequent visits and I could not concentrate for my UPSR final exam, we were in the ward every day and night looking after him as his frail body kept shrinking. There was literally no muscles left on his limbs that used to be lean and muscular as he plays badminton frequently back then. As time ticks, he could hardly even speak a word or have enough strength to blink his eyes. There was once, my mother broke down and cried after we left the ward. She could not imagine living a life without her soul-mate, nor how to take care of me and my sister with money running low for chemotherapy. My mom knew that he won't be able to fight the cancer much longer.
There were even times my family stayed overnight in the hospital, sleeping on wooden chairs and take shifts to take care of him. My elder sister would help clean him up while give him sips of water and wet his lips. Staying in the oncology ward, we also witness the passing of a patients in the ward and paid respect to them.
On one of the nights in the hospital, he was struggling to utter something, and he used up all his strength to scream out two words: "MUN LUNG..... MUN LUNG...". He was calling my Chinese name aloud, my mother and sister broke down in tears. I went to his bed and all he did was held my hand. Those were the last words that he said, they were my name. He have no energy left to speak but he was still alive. I felt guilty for hating him, I forgave him for what he have done to me in the past. He don't have to say more than that I believe, a touch of his hand tells me that I he loves me and forgives me as well. I can feel that sense of hope for me to grow up to be a better person. Two days later, on December 7th 2005; I was having my breakfast near his bed. When my mother asked me to wipe his face, I saw the bloodshot on his left eye. I called the doctors for help, five minutes later they pronounced him dead. We broke down and couldn't control our tears. My father's colleague came soon after to give condolences and pay respect to my family . He pulled me to the side and talked to me and this is what he said.
"Boy, do you know how much your dad loves you? He is worried at work thinking about you most of the time, he is worried that you will grow up to be despised by the public since you are so afraid of talking. He wants you to do well in school; he does not have much time to spend with you since he is busy with work. You are the only son, the man of the house from now. You have to bear the responsibilities of a man as you carry your father's name and promise me that you will not let him down."
I promised him that.
Ever since then, I start to change for the better. I struggled my way to discover more about myself by experimenting with baby steps like talking to strangers, and slowly taking courageous steps like participating
in public speaking, which led to reciting poems, singing on stage, taking up leadership roles and won several awards. Slowly I start to shape myself and discover my talents. It was as if I am a phoenix who died and resurrected from the ashes. The most important thing that I have gain is confidence. If it wasn't for my father, I don't think I will be able to get this far. Seems like he's my hero after all, an antihero who inspires me to be a better man, a better father to my children in the future.It's funny, I've even wrote a poem about him. It's called Chemotherapy, and it's dedicated to him on last year's Father's Day. I have to thank him for shaping me to what I am today.
The solemn dawn arise
He waits with woes, stiff and silent on the bed
Thoughts swirled hours upon his head
Thinking of words he should have said
Too late it was, that warmth starts to fade
The pendulum sways through the filaments of time
Taking away what was once mine
Thinking if God was actually blind
With eyes wide open, Nirvana he seeks
While the weary widow and his heir weeps
As they watch how fragile skin turns to stone
At the final war, he fought alone
Comes the shadow slowly creeps
Months of chemo only added few beats
Only to realize, he will bow in defeat
Silence was the loudest whisper echoing
Funny when you’re gone, people start listening
Tears start to flood into their blood
Trying to cleanse regret with mud
Exhales their grieves across the room
Filling the thin air with gloom
Six feet under the body is sealed
So many wishes of the soul unfulfilled
Yet, none made it to the will
Not priceless inherited jewels
But words to heal.
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