This is the topic that I rarely touch, my daddy.

I’ve posted an entry about my daddy being a liberal father when he
always encourages me to travel around either alone or with my friends
(or even boyfriend). But my daddy is not only a liberal dad.

I was terribly sick after over-working, in fact, slaving myself with
work for weeks without sufficient break. My stress breakdown turned to
be eating depression and fever (sound severe, huh?) and my mom
commented, “You look like a mess!”. Looking at my green pale face and
tiring eyes in the mirror, I startled to realize that I was really worn
down. Being a workaholic, I knew exactly that’s the price I have to pay
to be a perfectionist in getting the job done. My dad, however, was
upset about me not being able to have either lunch or dinner at home
and later on, he got frustrated because I worked too much. Now, he was
sick worried since I had a stress breakdown.

I had diarrhoea one day when I woke up after a horrible sleep with
aching tummy. Still being stubborn to go to work, I just can stand firm
until 12pm. I called my boyfriend to come and help send me home. He
also got scared looking at my face which was pale and exhausting at
that moment. Even before I left the office, I also had 2 rounds of
fantastic throw-up. Meaning, I’ve vomitted whatever I input into my
stomach the night before and that morning. My dad opened the door and
started acting like a busy mother hen after closing the door: quickly
grabbing me inside and showing me all the series of dishes my family
for lunch. He was running in and out the kitchen and I could hear the
fridge door banging on and off.

“You want some fresh cooked vegetable?”

“Nope, can I have some soup?”

“Oh, your brother just came back and finished off all the soup”

“What? Nothing left? I mean the soup”

“No, but we have this , that, etc…. etc…”

“Nope, dad, that’s okie. I guess I just wanted a long sleep badly”

I said and slowly dragged myself up the staircase. I was so tired and
my head pounded like crazy. I changed into my pyjama and straight away
collapse into my bed and slept. I didn’t know what was going on but I
had a fever since then until I woke up by a phone ringing (my honey
called to check on me). I slept straight from 12:30pm to 4pm on that
day. Waking up feeling weird, my head was still heavy and pounding. I
took a warm shower to refresh and started sniggering around to fish for
something to eat. Surprisingly, when I went downstair, the dining table
was ready waiting for me. All the newly cooked food and a small pot of
tomato soup with mince meat. That wasn’t my favourite kind of soup but
that was the best my daddy can make for me.

I don’t know but I felt really touched by my daddy’s pot of soup. It
wasn’t the best dish ever but you know, that helped to cure my stupid
fever and return part of my stamina to my weakening body. Seeing me
hopping down, my dad, again, started running around to make sure that I
had everything I need. And even he stood right near by to check how
much I could eat. Nothing can beat a hot bowl of soup (Whatever kind of
soup, as long as it tastes okie for my tongue) when I have a fever. Oh
Daddy, it was even more than good when you yourself cooked it for me.

Yeah, for a daddy who doesn’t know how to express his love for his
daughter, cooking something simple and showing the care are the best
expression. Not so many words, my dad is a person of actions (even
though I inherited the talkativeness from him, actually). To my dad, I
have been a little glittering princess since I was a little kid. He
almost gave me whatever I needed from knowledge like the habit of
reading simplified encyclopedia for children to junk food like
chocolate brought back from Russia and Germany (oh yum yum!!!) and now
the hot pot of tomato soup for my recovery.

My dad has never beaten me for whatever mistake I’ve made (and should I
say that my mistakes caused a huge damage to his beloved
properties!?!?!? I’m a pretty naughty and playful girl, by the way).
The most he could do was looking at me threateningly with a pair of
angry eyes and keeping silence for a few days. Well, I bet you know
that was even far scarier than shouting, beating, etc… And I got
scared, as a consequence. But but… mistakes were unavoidable and I
was still a playful kid (hehehhe!!!), thus, his properties continued to
get damaged resulted from my naughty discovery.

Childhood is not always a good memory to everyone. Same to me. But what
I remember the most about my dad in my childhood was his sexuality
lessons to me conducted by cartoonish terms. I came to know about
woman’s pregnancy, sexual intercourse and how the baby is created (like
how I was created) at such an early age (can’t remember when but around
8 or 10 years old). That helped me lots when it comes to awareness of
sexual attraction and its consequences if I go too far. To my dad,
enjoying but keeping the limit will be the best choice overall. And the
thing I love about dad the most is that he never interferes into my
love life. What he does all the times is just scanning my date from top
to toes and then when my date leaves, he will tell me what kind of
person my date is… etc…etc…

Oh Daddy, I don’t know how, I don’t know why. But Daddy, I really really love you…
(guess when I get married, I’ll hug him and cry real bad!!! All the makeup layers are gone, waste money … Duh…)