Nine

"I see trees of green, red roses too, I see them bloom for me and you and I think to myself.. What a wonderful world"

9 years ago, I lost my father. It feels surreal saying that number. Next year it will be a double digit. Every year that passes though, I feel I've had the chance to know him better than the last. I've learnt about who he was, what his story was and what he did. Whether it's my mum telling me of the time he was getting ready to hit a man with a cricket bat, but made him pee in his pants instead, or my grandfather telling me of how my dad was as a child. I feel he's a whole person now, not just my father, but a man associated to multiple roles - each he manifested with humility, humour and heart.

I wish I knew these sides to him - actually having to witness them first hand. But I guess these are memories and stories that are told in memory of someone. If he were around now, I'd probably still be incredibly scared of him, of making him angry. I don't however remember him angry. I remember him imitating 'Jailhouse rock' in a busy Pizza hut restaurant, complete with an air guitar solo.

Every year that passes by, my idea of the person he was gets stronger, missing him becomes second nature and trying to remember his voice gets a little harder. If you had asked me 9 years ago, if I thought I'd be sane enough to get myself through A-levels, a degree and work full time - I would say that somebody was pulling an awful joke on me. I had little if no faith at all in believing that the pain would get easier to deal with and missing him would be a part of my existence, something I would not delve on.

Its been a long process, getting to where we are today. We keep him alive in everything we do, and sometimes feel his presence in the most needing and yearning of times. There are many moments where I suddenly stop and realise 'I don't have a father' - especially during big and happy occasions. Its wishing he was there to witness these events and the lack of his presence which makes it hard. There are still tough times where I find myself clenching my teeth in tears, hoping he would magically appear with a bag full of goodies and the smell of Sculpture in the air. Those moments pass too eventually and I realise that I am fortunate enough to be surrounded with those who represent him the best.

So when people ask me how I got through 'it' and how I'm still 'alive'.. I just let them know that in the end, it was how amazing he was that inspired me to move on, and get to where I am today.