My father-daughter relationship was not something that I was (slash am) proud of. As a divorced, absent father figure kid, I witnessed my mother as a single provider in the house. Anyway, I’m gonna talk about my mom in a different post.
I can’t remember the last time I saw my father in person, nor the last time I spoke to him. It’s said that father is the daughter’s first love, but I can’t relate to it. They said that father is the provider, protector and hero of the family, but we’ve got to agree to disagree. A year or two before he passed, I tried to support him financially, even though I myself was struggling either. He tried to take me for granted so I avoided any means of communication with him.
I’m not trying to badmouth my late old man but I was hurt. I was in pain. I envy my cousins who have been showered by love by their father. All I’m trying to tell (to myself) to him is that I forgive you. I don’t want to let any wound mark left in my heart.
May your soul rest in peace. Al fatihah.
