My distant memory of father was… when he came home one day with a box in his hand― Chocolate box― That was having a lot of assortments in it and that I still remember that I sort of laugh? When the sweetness hit me like a wave that I definitely welcomed.
Another moment that I remember quite well is dad will let me sit on his lap when he types away and he wouldn’t put away the cigarette that he was smoking; It was the first exposure for me to start smoking if I were to pin it down.
Mother would make tea or bring it biscuits when he wouldn’t come down or lock himself away and some times would snatch me away if she thinks I am distraction to him. At that time I believed I was not in fact I was his muse or so I thought.
I didn’t know at that time if I had said I loved him and I can’t remember when I said I loved him. There must be a time when I said, “I love you dad! Dad you are the best!” But I can’t… I just can’t.
I am tired of carrying anger and pinning on fault onto dad but each time I see him all I can’t think is that. Just all the things he had could be with mother yet he had chosen to leave her.
He made me choose between him or my mother, the very person whom carried me for nine months ― The very person that almost kissed death on its lips as he tried to bring me into this world― The one who sacrificed her job just to raise me well for a year.. That is the person he had tried to make me lose over him.
As much as I love my father but to leave my mother is never an option.
Ah, at the end, I still think I loved him.