I attended two wakes in the short span of one week. Both are related to the death of my friends’ fathers.

One of my friends sms-ed me “Now I understand the pain you felt” . Indeed.

It isn’t easy to come to terms with the death of someone especially if he’s a loved one. Imagine seeing your father alive yesterday and dead today. You have to experience it to know the feeling.

When my own father passed away, I had difficulty accepting it. My dad had mellowed over the years. From a strict, authoritarian and no nonsense father to a benign, warm and generous man, I have witnessed the transformation in him. He had so much goodness to give to others yet he was still snatched away from me.

I even began to hate myself for a certain period as I felt really helpless. I blamed myself for not being able to do more for Dad. I sobbed when I saw the stoic father figure of mine waste away in the last few months.

How I wish I could just hold him in my arms and relive the father-son bond again. On 7 July 2006, I officially lost my father.

No one fully understood the feelings I was going through then. I felt the pain. Why did he have to go? I felt the loss. Why was I robbed of my dad while my other friends still had theirs? I wanted my father back. Life was not fair.

But since when was life fair? Stretch out your five fingers and see for yourselves. Even your five fingers are not of equal length.

I felt like an orphan when I lost Dad. It was as if a part of me had died inside. I’m sure both of my friends are feeling the same way too now. I felt empty. I felt directionless.

It was only after many nights of being alone that I sorted out my thoughts. I was happy Dad died peacefully and with dignity. I was proud Dad battled till the very end. He was a fighter. I was comforted that I had spent time with him, talked to him, ate with him, joked with him. I will never forget the times I sponged Dad. He was hesitant initially and adamantly refused. Only after much cajoling did he relent. Basically I told him he could just treat me as a male nurse. And besides, what was there to be shy about? What Dad had, I had too!

Why must we lose someone dear before we learn to fully appreciate their existence? Why can’t we practise the language of love when they are still living?

For those of you whose fathers are still alive, take this opportunity to be a filial son or daughter. Being filial doesn’t mean buying the most expensive presents. It’s simply being present in the moment and spending quality time with your dad. Just in case you forgot – Father’s Day is coming up.

To some people, to even say “I love you” can be frightening. How do you verbalise it to a man who is your father? The thought once crossed my mind many many years ago. I mean you don’t just walk up to your old man and say “I love you”. It’s going to garner you two responses – either you get a good scolding for being out of your mind or second, you get asked if you need extra pocket money.

If either scenario happens, it’s alright. Keep trying until it becomes natural for both father and son. Why can father and son play masak masak and even hug hug when the son was much younger? Why do both father and son cringe at the same scene being played out now many years later? Has the father changed? No, he is still the same father. Has the son changed? No, he is still the same son. It’s all in the mind, really.

After all, I’m not asking you to hug Tom, Dick or Stanley. I’m asking you to hug your dad. Don’t keep postponing it because on funeral day, you will never ever have the chance again. I’m so glad I hugged Dad and told him I loved him when he was still alive.

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