For My Appa

My Appa passed away 3 days before I turned 13. Today marks 13 years since that day. I usually tell people that I've learned to live with it, but I do miss him more than I can say. Especially when I think of how he and I would be now, what good friends we'd be, all the things we'd argue about. I am his little mini, anyway.

He was 39 when I was born and my sister arrived when he was 41. We had him for a short time, but we would have lost him even earlier. Before the cancer plagued him, he had a massive heart attack. But he pulled through. It was not time to go.

My Appa was a disciplinarian. I can't recall how many times he would have rotan-ed me for doing something I wasn't supposed to. But he was a softie, too. After the caning, he would cry because he had to discipline me.

"Promise Appa you won't do that again", he'd say.

"Promise, pa. Sorry", I'd reply.

My Appa also spoiled my sister and I rotten, and we would get in trouble with my Amma because of that. He would buy us candy for breakfast, let me skip school just because my nose was "paining", and he never said no to anything we asked. When I was 4, I told him I wanted a Gardenia cream bun in the middle of the night. He went to the nearest 7-11 to get me one immediately.

I had to wear a tie on Mondays when I was in secondary school. He started to feel sick again when I just started school that year, but he would help me tie that tie. I couldn't get it right, for whatever reason, and I still can't. I felt bad having to disturb him for the tie, so I just loosened it when I was done wearing it for the day. I just needed to tighten it to wear it the next week. There was no need to do it all over again. Easy.

Appa passed away that year. And I still used that same method for wearing the tie for the next few years. Appa isn't here, I thought. I must make sure it doesn't come off loose, because the last person who tied this for me is Appa.

But it did come loose one day. Right before the Monday morning assembly. I cried. Assembly was going to start in a few minutes. But I cried because I felt I lost a part of my Appa that morning.

What gives me the most pain when I think of my Appa (and Amma) is that they were taken far too soon. They were young. They weren't done doing what they wanted to do. But if there's one thing their passing away has taught me it's that it would be pointless to live up to a century but not have been a blessing to a life or two, left a legacy and given so many people a reason to smile.

My Appa was a hardworking, kind, and friendly man. He loved serving people. Just weeks after two of his toes were amputated, he drove the church van to ferry people back and forth to services. But he did it happily. My Appa lived a short life, but it was a great one. 13 years after his passing, I have people randomly telling me something he did for them or a memory of him that they have always cherished.

That's really how I aspire to be. Long after I'm gone, the good that I did must still be very much alive. There's really so much more I can say, Appa, but I shall save that for another day. I love you, my sweet, precious Appa. I miss your voice, your smile, and how your whole face would turn red when you laughed heartily.

Before you left, you told me about a dream. It was a stairway leading to heaven. You and Amma were up there receiving your crowns. You told me you saw Ro and I join you later. I will hold on to that always. Someday, I will join you in our forever home and I know you will be there right next to me when I receive my crown.

It's an absolute honour to be your daughter, Anthonysamy. I will carry this name with pride for all my days.

Miks.