2014-03-03 - 1:24 p.m.
Dear Dad,
March 2 is your wedding anniversary with Ma, so...happy anniversary. I know you're not here with us anymore, but God knows you'll always be in our hearts.
How's Ma? She's doing fine, no worries. She's been one tough lady, you know that already. She still misses you, which is very understandable. We all miss you, but I believe you're in a much better place now.
Thank you for being with Ma when she had her umrah trip to Saudi Arabia. Ma felt you wake her up early so she could pray - and you had gently tapped her on her shoulder during breakfast from behind, whispering in her ear - telling her to eat well. She said she'd felt strong to do a lot there, thanks to you.
A lot of things have been going on here. I've got a new job. It happened not long after your funeral, completely out of the blue. I've decided to take it, even though it means parting from the good people I've made friends with at work for the past couple of years or so. A tough decision? Oh, yeah. You know I can be pretty emotional at times.
A lot of people said I needed a change in my life. I'm also looking for a place to live near from work. My new full-time job will require a great deal of my time. The traffic worsens by the day and I've had enough of it.
It's also a good chance to get away from home for a while. I know this sounds cheesy, but home will always remind me of you and I need to distract my thoughts for now.
Don't worry; Ma's okay with that.
By the way, speaking of weddings, I went to my friends' last Saturday night. Imagine that, your romantically-challenged skeptic of a daughter!
Well, the guy's one of my good friends. He's helped me to go through stuff quite much. (Yes, he's one of those lads I talked to on a cab ride one Saturday evening back in October last year - under the pouring rain!)
He's one of the wonderful people who have never stopped urging me to start believing in love again. I don't know, Dad; perhaps they're right. Maybe I should give love one more try.
It was a beautiful wedding; you'd agree with me if you'd been able to be there too. I got to sing for them too, but you wouldn't be too surprised.
I even managed to catch a bouquet. Once again, it wasn't my first. (Remember my cousin's three years ago or so?) I don't take superstitions seriously, but I do take genuine well-wishes like I did from the newlyweds that night. When I got up on stage carrying the bouquet to wish them well, they said they both wished for 'my turn' after this. I could tell that they really meant it. They wanted me to be happy too.
I had to fight back tears as I hugged them both - one by one. Not only that, though. When I caught a sight of the bride's father, it instantly dawned on me:
"Marry your daughter...make her my wife...I want her to be the only girl that I love for the rest of my life...and give her the best of me 'til the day that I die..." ("Marry Your Daughter" - Brian McKnight)
You're not going to be there...when it's my turn. The guy will be asking permission from Ma and my brother. You won't be there to ask him to remind me that I'm not a freak - whenever I feel less than normal...and that I'm beautiful, even when some people out there always try to make me feel ugly.
You won't be there, but you can still see me. They all say you'd be proud of me, the person I have become today. I really hope so too. We all know that one can only try.
A lot of people turned up last Sunday to honour your memory and pray for your soul - 40 days after your funeral. Once again I lost count.
As always, we'll be praying for you. You will always, always be in our thoughts, Dad. Rest in peace.
Love,
R.
