The bubble has finally burst!

For those who have been following my blog from the beginning, you would know that my relationship with my dad has been strained since my teenage years. He couldn't stand me because I would always stand up for my mum. We hardly spoke though we lived under the same roof. The only words I would hear from him were vulgarities. My mum used to tell me that he was the one who chose my name because he was very much smittened by its pronounciation and meaning. I was amused or shall I say tickled by the fact for as far as I can remember, he rarely addressed me by the beautiful name that he lovingly chose for me. He would only shower me with vulgarities. Disturbing names that have emotionally scarred me, till to this day. I'm not innocent either. I have even raised my hands on my dad on several occasions due to the constant verbal and physical abuses he put my mum through. I am not proud of my actions but that was the only way I could defend my mum from his torments. That's all I knew at the age of 8. In my 32 years, I've only caught my dad sober on a few occasions. But to our pleasant surprise, after a volatile family intervention last June, he changed for the better (so we hoped). He stopped drinking and for once, we got to experience the beauty of having a father figure in our lives and for my mum, a husband and a companionship she has been yearning for the last 40 years. Yes folks. They have been married for 40 years. We were on cloud 9 and we couldnt ask for more. Even his counsellor was very pleased with his changes. However, after 8 months of bliss, the bubble has finally burst. He has reverted back to his binge drinking. He is now back to square 1. Will he ever change? I dont think so. Not anymore. Not after all the chances we have given him so far. If he had truly loved us; if he knew how much emotional damage he had caused all of us all these years; if he appreciates how we were readily willing to forgive and forget the past and give him a chance to reprise his role as a dutiful father and loving husband, would he even have had the slightest inkling to revert back to his vice? All I have learnt from this sombre awakening experience is that my dad is a saddist who gloats over his loved ones miseries. He loves seeing my mum breakdown. He loves playing mind games with her. Simply put, he loves seeing her miserable. He knows for sure that if she is miserable, that would make us, the kids, devastated. He hates seeing us, his own flesh and blood, happy. He doesnt want to help himself or us. Do I hate him? No! I sympathise for him. He needs help. The question is how can we help someone who doesnt want to be helped? It shatters me and my brothers into pieces when we look at our mum these days. She has made so many sacrifices for us and our 'darling' father. Doesnt she deserve peace and bliss in her life? How much longer must we endure this? Why must we go through this vicious poisonous cycle all over again? Why was all our happiness short-lived? The special father-daughter bond that I had shared with him for the last few months has finally turned into a mirage. So much for getting a chance, that too after 32 years, to experience what it is like to have a loving father in your life! For all you beautiful souls out there who have doting fathers, cherish them; treasure them cause I would die for such a golden opportunity.


"Dance With My Father" by Luther Vandross

Back when I was a child, before life removed all the innocence

My father would lift me high and dance with my mother and me and then

Spin me around till I fell asleep

Then up the stairs he would carry me

And I knew for sure I was loved

If I could get another chance, another walk, another dance with him

I’d play a song that would never, ever end

How I’d love, love, love To dance with my father again

When I and my mother would disagree To get my way,

I would run from her to him

He’d make me laugh just to comfort me

Then finally make me do just what my mama said

Later that night when I was asleep

He left a dollar under my sheet

Never dreamed that he would be gone from me

If I could steal one final glance, one final step, one final dance with him

I’d play a song that would never, ever end

Cause I’d love, love, love To dance with my father again

Sometimes I’d listen outside her door

And I’d hear how my mother cried for him

I pray for her even more than me I pray for her even more than me

I know I’m praying for much too much

But could you send back the only man she loved

I know you don’t do it usually But dear Lord she’s dying To dance with my father again

Every night I fall asleep and this is all I ever dream