Ayah's Love

I have never doubted that my father loves me unconditionally.

I have always known that – despite numerous misunderstandings, communication breakdowns, existence of generation gap and all.

And we had a lot of those - differences of opinion, disagreements and stuff. I have always been closer to Mak, preferring to sought Mak’s opinions out and listen to her advices.

Ayah is rather conservative – who believes that fathers are always right, to be obeyed at all times at all cost, no questions asked. He also has always put high expectations on my brothers and I – which could be really exasperating at times.

Like when I got mostly A’s for my SPM trial exam – Mak congratulated me and encouraged me to do better in the real exam. Ayah, on the other hand, asked, “Why didn’t you get all A’s?”

Then, there was that moment when I returned for summer break just before my final year in UK began. I was planning how to gently let Ayah know that I had been doing poorly during my second year as I found studying law was really, really depressing. Ayah however, had jumped upon the first chance when we had lunch together to enthusiastically discuss my ‘future plan’ which included getting a diploma in Syariah followed by practicing law with a respectable firm. I must had broken his heart when I announced that while I intend to finish the course and get a bachelor’s degree as a gift to both him and Mak, I had no intention whatsoever to climb up the ladder of success only to find later on that the ladder had been leaning on the wrong wall. I may love reading John Grisham books, but I just knew that my heart is not into practicing law.

Until today, from time to time, Ayah would mock me about taking the easy way out and not becoming a lawyer as he had planned, “anak Ayah ni penakut, tak nak masuk court…”

Still, I have always known that in his own ways, Ayah loves me.

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“Do you have any idea how much your Ayah loves you?”

“Sure, I know he loves me. I’m his only daughter,’ I quipped.

“No, seriously. Do you know that he has a high expectation on your future husband, that he has been searching all these years for someone who can protect, care for and love you wholeheartedly just so that he is assured that you will be in good hands and he no longer has to worry about you once you got married.”

‘Huh?”

“I can tell how much your Ayah really loves you every time we talk about you. I could sense his high hopes for me to take good care of you. Even your Ayah’s Ustaz said the same thing – your Ayah is not as worried about your brothers as much as he’s worried about you despite your apparent independence and all. I feel it was an honour to have gotten your parents’ blessings but I also know that with it, comes a great responsibility. I’m supposed to take care of the their eldest child, their only daughter, the apple of the father’s eyes. Your Ayah has agreed to entrust you into my care and he has every intention to see that I do a better job if not as well as he did, of caring for and protecting you”

Somehow, listening to that suddenly reminded me of long-suppressed childhood memories of Ayah...

When I was a toddler, Tok told me, often Ayah would be coming back home late at nights, took me out for a drive around the neighbourhood, let me play with the steering wheel for a while before tucking me back to sleep. He even installed a baby seater with a mock steering wheel next to the driver's seat for me.

When I was about six or seven, Ayah would still be coming back late, but would entertain Abang’s and my wish to go out and have some fried chicken and a bowl of banana split in a fast-food restaurant in Bukit Mertajam every now and then. We used to live in Kulim back then (and the Kulim-Butterworth expressway was not in existence then)

When I was about eight or nine and my family was in deep turmoil, Ayah did everything he could to ensure that Abang and I got to learn things our peers did despite missing going to school for almost a whole year. Still we did not miss that much as Ayah saw to it that we learn from the textbooks and still did our exercises.

When I was nine - perhaps partly due to my own naughtiness, and partly to the pressure I was subjected to - I had pneumonia. Initially Ayah thought it was a normal cold and fever case, so I was taken to a clinic. After visits to two other clinics in a span of one week and my condition did not improve, Ayah took me to the hospital - where I was immediately warded after being diagnosed of pneumonia. Ayah was the one who lost lots of sleep and had to spend more time away from his workplace to look after me as I was hospitalised for about a week. I remembered noticing how haggard he looked one day when he came to see me after work with a plastic of green apples in his hand. I remembered feeling thankful that I had Ayah who came to see me twice daily when a few of my neighbours seldom had any visitors coming to see them.

And all the moments when Ayah had to just get things done materialized in my mind. Flash shows of how Ayah had always proved that he’s the most reliable man around when it comes to saving stuff for last minute performance...

#####

And suddenly, all the quibbles I had had with Ayah in later years seemed so… trivial.

I have always known that Ayah loves me.
I have just never realised how deep and pure that love is from another man’s view.
I am glad that I do now...