Home Sweet Home

I'm so thrilled that I don't know how to begin this! Let me try anyhow...

My mom has always been supportive of her children's endeavors - be it our passion, our hobbies or our work. She will try her best to understand the IT lingo that my bro and I toss around during table-talks, the church terminologies and the ministries that I'm involved in and most of all, my writings.

She knows that I have a website of my own. She was very cool about it and did not lambast me for putting personal stuff for all and sundry to see. In fact, she wanted to read my writings especially after I told her that I blog about happenings in the family, too. "Next time when I go upstairs, let me have a look at your website, ya?" she would remind me. But since we spend more time together downstairs rather than up, she didn't get to see my blog.

It was only after I wrote [url=http://www.coolcatalyst.com/index.php?id=P180] How to Treat a Damsel in Distress[/url] that I finally printed the entry out for her. I wanted so badly for her to read it. I wanted her to know how much I appreciate her. After giving her the printout, I fled upstairs but not before noting that she looked so happy because she could finally read what I wrote about her.

After a while, my brother came upstairs. "Mummy cried a little when she read your article. And she wants to say something to you," he said. Mummy cried?? Oh, my... She was having her shower then and so, I kept on egging my brother to spill the beans but the guy simply refused to do so. "Sis, she told me not to tell you anything more. You need to ask her yourself." Gosh, how I hate being kept in suspense!

Finally, she was done with her shower and I asked her, "Mom, what do you think of what I wrote? And what is it that you wanted to tell me?"

She gave me a beatific smile, "You write so wonderfully. I didn't know how good your writing is until I read this. And... and... I never realised that you really loved me until I read this article."

My jaw dropped open, "But Mummy, didn't I tell you that I love you before this?"

"Yes, you did but... it just didn't sink in until I read this," she said quietly. "I'm very glad you printed this out for me."

She hugged me tightly before ambling off, "I'm going to show this to your father and tell him, 'See, our daughter has written something so nice about me!'"

I guess dad must have been impressed by what I wrote that he asked me to write for the NST's Father's Day contest this year. And as what I mentioned in [url=http://www.coolcatalyst.com/index.php?id=P267]A Dream Fulfilled[/url], I told my dad that I couldn't think of anything nice to write about him. What an example of a good daughter, eh?

A day after I blogged about 'A Dream Fulfilled', some of you guys encouraged me to go ahead and tell my dad those three words face to face. I pondered on the best way to go about it and then thought of using what I wrote to pave the way. I printed that article out and gave it to my mom to see. She was thrilled and said, "He's gonna love this!" So I asked her to let him read it when she thinks the timing is appropriate.

The few days that passed by afterwards were kind of awkward on my side. I kept imagining my dad looking at me in a different way after that. I kept wondering if he liked the article or hated it or what?? When I asked my mom about it two days ago, she said that she hasn't found the opportunity to let him read it yet. I felt rather relieved and said that she can take her time.

Yesterday, I came home rather late and hoped that my dad was already asleep. He always believes that all good men (and women) should be at home before midnight and likes to remind us of it when we come back late. Lo and behold, my dad was the one who opened the door for me. But he seemed to be in a good mood and did not lecture me about coming home late. Now, that's strange...

I went to the dining hall where the familiar sight of my mother and brother eating their fruits and talking greeted me. Upon seeing me, my mom started to behave like a spy - she dropped her fruit and tip-toed about, her eyes darting furtively around and telling me that she has something to tell me but it can only be said when Papa is safely asleep.

Again, the suspense nearly killed me but I had no other choice but to wait until she stopped acting like a spy.

After she was satisfied that he was indeed asleep, she finally told me that she made him read my article that afternoon when he asked her for some reading materials.

"What's this?" he asked suspiciously.

"Read it, it's about you," she said.

Puzzled, he read a few sentences, "No, I don't see anything about me here."

"Keep on reading, you'll see," she said firmly and pretended to disappear with the full intention of peeking at him while he was reading. And she noted the following actions:

He got hooked about half-way through the page.

He read it three times through.

He had to blink back the tears that came to his eyes.

After reading it three times, he put down the paper and stared into space, a nostalgic look upon his face. Mom had seldom seen him looking so poignant.

Wow.

When she asked him what he thought about the article, he said, "Yes, she can write well." He didn't add more to that.

I always dreamed of my writings touching and changing the world. And now, I see it happening in my world - and if that's all my writing is meant to accomplish, I'm content

I thanked my mom heartily for the good work she had done and for her immense support. And so, the stage is set. Stay tuned for updates!

On the way home yesterday, the Lord suddenly dropped this thought into my heart and mind. It was the story about my dad and the death of his dreams. It was something that I heard a few times before but never pondered much upon.

I pictured this handsome and strong young man eagerly dashing off to the airport to catch his flight to Australia. Everything had been done and he was all set to pursue his degree in Accountancy in Aussieland. He walked eagerly to the counter and beamed a huge smile at the staff behind the check-in counter.

"Passport and tickets please," the person said.

As he reached into his pockets, his face turned pale. After going through every single pocket on his clothings and luggages, it confirmed his worst fears - he had left his passport at home!

He managed a tremulous smile at the counter staff and said that he'll be back with his passport and made a mad dash back home.

His father was very angry at the boy's forgetfulness and forbade him to leave home that day. "If you can be so careless in leaving your passport behind, you must not be serious about your studies. I'm not going to support your studies anymore," was the reason given.

My dad never came back to the airport that day. His dream died because his father killed it.

Or so we thought.

Many, many years later, my dad came back to the same airport. He was about to send his daughter - the only one among his children blessed enough to pursue her studies overseas in Australia. She could see the tears behind his eyes which he managed to control. She felt touched by his love, unspoken, but so strongly felt. He shook her hand and patted her shoulder awkwardly and told her to take care and that he will write regularly. She nodded and blinked back some tears and then she was gone. That tearful moment soon passed and gave way to more exhilirating feelings of being airborne and going so far away for the first time in her life.

She never knew what the tears behind her father's eyes truly meant.

Until yesterday when she was driving back home from work.

Then she noticed that tears were streaming down her cheeks. This was the same girl who jokingly told her father that she couldn't think of anything nice to write about him for the Father's Day contest this year because he was so stern all the time. He was always reminding her to bring important documents with her before she goes out for appointments. And always reminding her to bring her passport to whenever she goes overseas. "Why can't you just loosen up, Papa?" she would say.

Somehow, she sensed the Lord telling her not to be sad because her dad's dreams were fulfilled through her. It also reflected without a shadow of a doubt, of his fatherly love for her.

"I love you, Papa," she whispered and smiled through her tears. Someday soon, she will find the courage to say that to him face to face.