Father / Daddy.

my father was the one who always yelled at me. he was the one who always hit me, accused me of wrongs out of nowhere, lacked trust in me, had his expectations, and he was the one who called me 'daughter from hell' when i told him i'd gotten 11 points for my N levels.

my father was the one who took down the photo of me from the wall, leaving an obvious gap in between the frames of my brothers'. he was the one who cleared the countertop of any photos that had my face on it, including the one of me accepting an award from Halimah Yacob.

my father is the one who chased me out of the house, six months ago.

my father is the one who refuses to give me money, who denied his responsibilities of a daughter because he had chased her away.

that was my relationship with my father. and i hated my father.

but when i said i hate my father, i left out the part where i had loved my daddy. 

my daddy was the one who always made jokes when i was down. his jokes might have been super lame and super irrelevant but they never failed to make me giggle.

sometimes he goes out of his way to make me smile or laugh, by being silly and not like an adult at all.

he was the one who paid all the bills, and my school fees, and gave me my allowance, yet he was never stingy when i wanted chocolates or a new top.

i would ask Mother to get something for me but she would say no; that is when my daddy comes in and starts gossiping, like an old woman, about how stingy Mother was.

and then he would stroke me on my head and say, "when Daddy get my pay i buy for you k? now Daddy no money already, only have money for your school allowance."

he always opened his wallet and showed me the stack of 2-dollar notes [for my allowance] and laughed it off, like it was an old joke he never got tired of telling.

my daddy was the one who got me my first camera, and my Nike shoes which cost eighty bucks.

last year whenever  i refused to go to school, he would beat me til i go. afterwards he'd send me off, although i was still emotional about the beatings, and he'd tell me to take care and study hard.

i'd come back from school to see a ten-dollar note on my desk, and a text from him, saying it was reward for me going to school.

when i read ghost stories, i usually regret when i remembered that i had to sleep alone. i would ask my little brother to sleep in my room with me but he didnt want to.

daddy was the one who asked if i wanted to watch tv in the hall with him, and i did; until i fell asleep. by the time i woke up it was time for school and there was my dad, asleep in front of the tv.

daddy was the one who thanked me whenever i got him cake and presents for his birthdays. he was the one who would kiss me on my forehead every year on mine, and wish me Happy Birthday.

daddy was the one who searched the whole of the west side of Pasir Ris, looking for me, on the night that Mother locked me out of the house.

daddy was the one who did so much for me, and he was the hand i had been holding for seventeen years.

i'd go into my childhood days but there are too many memories with the man i called Daddy.

called. 

i dare say, i miss my daddy.

it's the only reason i can think of as to why i'd cried at work earlier, when i listened to the radio DJs talk about Father's Day.