Forgive me. When I was young, I once or twice had wished you were dead. I couldn't bear the pain and hurt of your strictness and temper. But how I regret to have done that. And now I miss you so much, that I've been wondering how it feels like to have a friend and more, had I grown up with you.
But then again, if you hadn't passed away due to a major heart problem, would we be the best of buddies or the worst of enemies? You were always away and seldom home. And if you chose to stick to your career, we would've hardly talked and had time for each other.
Would I still look up to you for guidance, strength, and wisdom? Or would I treat you as a bad example of a person? I dunno. But I hoped it was the former.
I love you. I never said this when you were alive. How I painfully wanted to say this to you and finally have closure. I can't get over the fact, up to now, that you're gone.
Happy birthday, 'pa.
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