if only i could turn back time...

the past few days have been surreal.

i have been back home since tuesday morning, and only 2 days have passed. it felt like it's been so many days, probably because i didn't sleep much, and my mind kept replaying the time i got the news to the time i touched down in singapore. i did so many things that day it felt like 2 days instead of one.

that night, i was so upset i couldn't think logically. i knew i started asking weird questions to friends, and just feeling lost. i walked from my place to the wake. and because we weren't allowed there, i stood at the block across the carpark and silently prayed there. and i apologised for never being a good daughter, and how i gave up the chance to be one. i asked if he remembered us before he left, and told him not to forget us. and i asked why he couldn't wait for me to come home and see him before he left.

yesterday was pretty much a blur. i felt so lost i longed for someone who's always been in my life to hug me, and so i drove to grandma's. we talked, and that was pretty much the first time in my whole life i've ever had a heart to heart talk with her. spending time with her in the past just couldn't compare to what we talked about during the half hour i was there.

maybe a wake is held so that the family members won't have much time alone to think about the loss, to have people around them to share the loss and the pain, but for mum, bro and i, we just seek solace in the fact that we have relatives and friends who care, relatives who are on our side and friends who have been calling just to ask if we have eaten. i eat everyday, not because i want to, but because i know i have to. i still wake up crying, i still find it difficult to accept, but yet i know one day it will all come to pass. i am afraid of forgetting daddy, and i am even more afraid that i'll keep pretending that he's still around.

thinking back, it's been half a year he's been home. ever since his op in april, he hasn't come home, but these few days the house felt extremely empty. i sat on my parents' bed, in his usual spot, and held his packet of cigarettes, which my mum still kept. we never put away his things. his glasses were still on the bedside table, his tshirt still hung on the hook, even after all this time. after his op, the only updates we got were from my aunt, and after 2 weeks dad finally called, and i was so glad i was around when he called. he said he was sorry he just couldn't remember our number and they took his phonebook away. he knew i've been calling his handphone many times. but it just took him so long to remember our number. and that was the last we've heard from him. and he went back to the hospital, condition worsened, and to see him lying in bed.. helpless and like a baby, i couldn't take it. i'd break down everytime as my mum spoke to him. subsequent visits left me feeling drained because he'd look different. that wasn't dad. that was someone else. what happened to that boisterous man i call dad? who is this frail man lying in bed with tubes out of his body?

the other family made sure we didn't get enough time with dad. our visits had to be in secret, because at certain times the private nurse they hired would be around and he wouldnt let us have time alone with dad. the hospital nurses empathized with us, and always told us the times he'd be around. then when they shifted dad to the nursing home a month back, no one knew until my uncle went to the hospital and couldnt find dad. mum made it a point to try to visit dad everyday. i've never went. because i always told myself tomorrow i'd go. and i told myself i'd go after i came back from new york, and now, there's no tomorrow after all.

i've never done the things my dad wanted me to do. when i got o level results good enough to get into a good junior college, i told my dad i'd go poly because that was what i've always wanted. when he said being in the hotel industry isn't a good thing, i still went ahead and joined the hotel. when he told me flying isn't such a good thing, i still went ahead and signed the contract. i've never done what he wanted. and he never blamed me for it. he's never scolded me nor hit me. we've had spats, but he's never hit me. he gave us what we wanted, and he was a good man, because he was responsible, and took care of us for so long.

i just can't forgive myself. when we were young, every time dad came back, brother and i would run to hug him, and when he left we would give him a goodbye kiss and a hug. but as we grew older, these acts of love became lesser. i'd not be home the times he would be, or be in the shower or even pretend to be asleep when he left. there were days when i didnt see dad. and it didn't matter then when i was working in the hotel. there were days when he called on sunday mornings but i would tell him i was tired and told him i wont join him and mum for breakfast. i used to love spending time with dad when i was a child, but why as i grew up i grew distant from him?

i've gone through many phases. when we were young i never could understand why dad left in the middle of the night. when i was in primary two, parents broke the news to me that dad has 2 wives and mum doesnt have a wedding cert, i thought it was normal because that was what the drama serials were showing then. as i grew older i envied my cousins, who had family outings on sundays, and sat at the dining table to eat as a family. i've gone through a stage hating my mum, and saying really hurtful things i regret till now, because i thought she went to destroy other people's family. i've gone through a stage hating my dad for not being faithful to his wife. but when i went out to work i realised where love plays a part, no one was to blame. i shouldnt blame my mum, she dutifully stayed by him, even though it was tough for her to have given up everything for us. i shouldnt blame dad, who had been responsible for our upbringing.

after i started flying, i realised family is important and i started making more effort to be around at home. we went out for a couple of family dinners and it made me really happy. having charcoal was a good thing too. dad loved charcoal, although i always chide him for overfeeding charcoal with snacks. but i couldnt and wasnt able to talk to him heart to heart without feeling that awkwardness in between us. so many years have built the wall between us and i allowed it to happen. dad made the effort to call everytime i'm overseas to check on me and i never, never, made enough effort to care for him. only when he started feeling sick i called him everyday to check on him till he went for the op.

i have but myself to blame for this hurt that consumes me from inside. i don't know how to forgive myself, or how to accept that he'd no longer be around. a part of me doesn't want to move on, but i know the world doesn't stop turning for me. i've been denied my chance of sending him off, and seeing him the last time. and i feel angry.

and i failed my brother as an elder sister. after so long he broke down last night and i wasn't there for him. everyday i've been crying and i haven't been the strong figure that he could look up to.

i've not been a good daughter, and not a good sister.

i can't forgive myself.