June 16, 2000

Dear Father,

It was a recorded tape that I found from the pile of old belongings. Being curious, I played the tape, thinking that it might be some good old songs which you had left behind. To my surprise, it wasn't. It took me a while to recognise that the man's voice at the background was you, and the kid's voice stammering at common expressions was no other than me.

Listening to the recorded clip, I felt very strange. You sounded so young in the tape, but it was so familiar. I remember I grew up listening to such voice. You were always there, untiringly teaching us the right from the wrong, guiding us to take the proper from the imappropriate.

"This is a clam."

"Oh..oo... this this is a a clammmm. We we can can eat the cla clammmm..."

"Yes, the clam is edible."

"We can can can eattttt thhhhe clam huhhhh..."

...

The clip wasn't long. But it was long enough. The thing that really touches me was your patience to educate, despite the fact that I was vocally unfit to follow suit. It was a struggle on my part, so was it on yours. But you were the one who made the choice to stay put, and showered me with lots of attention in the name of love. You could have easily left me behind, tending to the needs of my two other brothers (who were a lot healthier and deserving of your time). Or you could have shrugged us aside to attend to your business chore that never seemed to stop piling up. Or perhaps, you could have just indulged yourself in one of your favourite past time --- fishing. There were thousand and one things you could have done, but you chose to be with me. I was speechless running through the list of possibilities. Only my tears was telling.

One morning we took breakfast together. I was nosy to find out how you planned to spend your golden years. Angling was the first thing that came to my mind, since you used to be very into the hobby during your younger days. I was surprised that you wasn't sure, not even after I had sounded off the idea of going fishing again. As you rightly pointed out, you had already lost touch with all your fishing buddies. Once again, I was touched. I could see your real sacrifice of bringing us up, often at the expense of your personal avocation.

Time flies. We are now into our adulthood. I have not only overcome my stammer, but have turned myself into an outspoken entrepreneur. In fact, I am beginning to see a lot of your past in me. Everyday as I spend hours working on my business, I would occasionally remember the scene when you were busy calculating the cash in the safe, while we, a bunch of kids, ran our way back to the second storey. I can still recall that it was a no-no to go down to the ground floor (our shop front) at night, when the main door was closed and you were wrapping up some work before calling it a day. I don't know how you felt like when we sometimes got naughty and went down the ladder to disturb you. We were just trying to get your attention. The rest is memory...

I must admit that I have had a great childhood under your lenient supervision, coupled with the unshakeable piece of discipline. You gave us a good mix of both, the freedom to seek our talents and the restraint to succumb to our selfish desires. We all have since grown into sensible adults, with the necessary virtues (such as thriftiness, hardworking, responsibility, perseverance, integrity and patience) imparted in us which would see us through great challenges in life. Eventually when it comes the day I have done my country proud, I would know to whom my success should be attributed.

Finally, I would like to sign off with a famous saying,

"It is much easier for a father to have children than for children to have a real father."

~ Pope John XXII

And I am proud to say that I have a real father.

Your grateful son,
Yin Choon