I Worry

Earlier this week when I was going up the escalator with Hazwan at KLCC we saw a man, stiff, lying on the floor at the food court. There were a few security guards surrounding him checking his pulse and waiting for him to respond. Slowly Hazwan and I walked away but we were still looking at the poor man who was unconscious. A second later I saw my father, lying on the floor unconscious, in his white shirt, still wearing his bag...like that man. I quickly turned away and started walking in the other direction.

I keep worrying about my dad from time to time, about whether he is OK or is in trouble. He has a vulnerable heart which can attack him anytime, especially when he’s stressed out. He tries to stay fit and takes his meds on time. But with his job, running around, up and down the stairs, rushing here and there, i really cant imagine how he does it. Sometimes I would stare at him and wonder how he manages it. He is already 60 plus and has been through a lot. I worry that he might collapse anytime Im not there to help him. I have a habit of wanting to be a hero and save all my family members from troubles. Its such a bad habit til i cant stop imagining things. Like the time when a 2 motorists circled around my dad and smacked him straight in the face, stole his glasses and phone and his bag in the car. I heard his trembling voice on the phone telling me what happened to him. And believe it or not, straight away I imagined me being there kicking those f-tards asses. Bodoh gila. But quite cool. In reality, i could only stay angry and sad for my father and start accusing all the motorists for hurting my father. I dont want to ever see him or imagine him in trouble without me being there. After me and Hazwan went back to the escalator, that man who was unconscious wasnt there anymore. I wonder what happened to him after we walked off. I wonder whose father or son that was...

My dad is the kind who would knock on his daughter’s door in the morning she opens the door. He would wait even it if takes a few minutes. He would keep calling even if she doesnt want to answer. Thats how annoying it is. And when she finally opens the door, he’d say:

“Dont lock the door. You can get your asthma attack anytime especially when you sleep and if your door is locked, I wouldnt be able to save you.”

He’s not the perfect father but i can see he tries to be. Just that his ways of showing it is really weird.

*Written by Suraya Jermadi on her blog, The Untitled Piece.


my dad the hero, my sister the supergirl. touched* :]
surrexia said…
adik youre so sweet :)
Fikri said…
Aik, Abg Hakim tak?

Aigo.... :)