On Jul 15, 2020 by John Doe
I had loved him the moment I conceived him, this little bundle who came from me. He grew up largely without a father and I without a partner. I had poured all my love on this little child who was the apple of my ‘never too bright’ eyes. He would wake up every day with a cheerful “Good Morning”. Yes, he made my day begin and he closed every night with his warmth. I had lived every day for him. I did all I could to provide him a comfortable life. It wasn’t easy for us, I had moments where I thought I was really going to give up. It was challenging dealing with a boy who was asserting this independence as he went into his teens. At the very heart of all I did, I believed I did it for him and for me because he was the reason to go on.
He was a boy who smiled all the time. I particularly remembered one memory. We were to meet at the mall to watch a movie together- I came back from work and he was already there as the mall was close to home. As I was going up the escalator towards the cinema, his head popped out over the railing and there he was, my son, whose wide, goofy grin melted my heart.
This boy, he loved to eat… I swear he would eat me out of the house and home. But the adventures we had eating around the country – from bak kut teh to spicy noodles, from Indian banana leaf rice to ice creams. So many and yet so few.
And all too soon, he grew up and had to leave the nest. He received a scholarship to study across the ocean. I was so very proud of him. As I stood at the platform sending him off to his big journey to see the world, I wrestled with my own warring thoughts of how I would manage without him. And yet I must for I do not want to constrain him in his quest to see the world. The nights were so long and exhausting as I battled my own loneliness. It is hard to adjust when my life revolved around him. I had never ever told him directly how much I loved him or how much he meant to me.
It is not quite the thing to do for my family. I was gruff in my love, fierce in my discipline. So, I write him stories like this, hoping that perhaps one day he will find them and understood why I did the things I did as he grew up. Oh, those challenging years. In writing these notes, I feel my own fears subsiding and I do feel a little stronger. I know no other way than to write them down here on paper when I could never say it to his face. I hope he will one day realise how very much I loved him.