My father has been one of the leading characters in my life story. He has acted as loving dad, protector, educator, comedian, tyrant, corporal punisher and more. He has outdone himself in all these roles. He is dear to my heart and I love him.
I can look back and remember every single beating I got from my dad, all in the name of love and education and discipline. Every remorseful
sulky tear I shed was deserved. When I was in trouble, my heart would thunder in my chest every time I would hear his car coming in the drive way. I was so afraid, that if I didn't have such powerful control over my bowels, I would've peed like a scared dog just hearing him open the door to the house, and even at 16 I was cowering behind my mother's skirts. There was one time when he called to pick him up from work. My mum told me to turn on the lights at our shop on the way to the hospital to pick him up. So I did. By the time I got to the hospital, my dad's face was carved in stone. He was absolutely furious. I was shaking in my shoes all the way home and could hardly drive with my dad sitting in the passenger's seat, ready to backhand me at any moment. When we got home, he sat me down and started shouting at me about being late to pick him up and where the hell did I go (
lou alelo kao i se umu). I was bawling my eyes out and ran out, fa'alii as hell but secretly scared at the same time. I went to my brother's house and stayed there for days. After the tears, having had enough of staring at the cockroaches under the bed and befriending the millipedes, I devised my 5-year plan in place and was looking towards a brighter tomorrow, father-less of course. My dad was going to PAY and I would run away and everybody would be sorry when they found my dead anorexic body lying under a hedge. But airena. My mother picked me up a few days later and took me back home. I went along without a fight having realized ua galo o'u panty i le fale. Hoh!
Not a pretty picture is it?
It wasn't all bad. This happened only twice a year. The rest of the time we were a happy family. My dad looked out for me, and come to think of it, he and my mother spoiled me rotten, but look what an amazing person I have become because of it? My mental state is only slightly affected. Lol. My dad is a real character. My extended family all adore him, when they're not busy hating him, because he's funny, tells the greatest jokes, and tells you you're shit if he thinks so. He's very direct and speaks his mind. Not a diplomatic bone in his body. He's a doctor by profession and specializes in anaesthesia. He's the best in the business and knows his stuff like the back of his hand, having practised for 40 years. A real dinosaur he is.
A few months ago, he went to NZ for a check-up. For the past few years he's had imaginary heart attacks and cysts and cancerous lumps all over his body. So when he went for a check-up, we weren't too worried. Not until we received a call from him in NZ with not so good news. The doctors in NZ found a lump in his prostate. A cancerous one. If they don't take it out soon, it will develop into cancer and then it's terminal. My mother was beside herself with worry and was unrecognizable in her fear that my dad would soon be gone. My dad is becoming more frail as a result and has started to forget things. Senility edges ever closer and only Tinto and golf light up his life these days.
Well this is getting too personal now. All I can say is that I love my dad very much and his little girl Tinto adores him. You should see the way her face lights up when she sees her grampa...the way none of our faces have ever lit up seeing the tyrant of the house. Hehe.
Light a candle for me and pray he recovers from his illness.
