Happy 60th Birthday, Pa!

I am the only child. I also am the youngest child. And I have an older brother and sister.

I found out about my dad's first marriage a few days before my tenth birthday.

Things had been financially rough on my family and my mother found it difficult to be challenged by the "for-richer-or-poorer" marriage vow. I have clear memories of being woken up late at night by the arguments my parents would have in the bedroom and crying silently as a result of that, hoping they'd stop and I'd eventually fall back to sleep. The area we lived in had a high break-in rate and I wasn't allowed to have my own room till a much older age than other kids usually do.

Mum was hard on dad. Very hard. I'm not one to take sides but seeing it from both points of view, I knew then that my dad did nothing wrong as much as I know it now. He didn't gamble his savings away. He didn't splurge on alcohol. He didn't invest in cigarettes. He didn't make bad judgment on a greedy investment. He wasn't throwing it on women out there. Things just didn't go well with his job. It is, very simply, a common problem even in young adults today. You lose your job or you resign and you can't find another or your company folds or you're a fresh graduate and have been hunting for half a year in vain, etcetera, etcetera. Whatever the storyline, it isn't the greatest shocking epic of the millenium. But mum would take nothing of it. She'd have her bitter face on everyday, for the longest time, and give my dad the silent treatment. I'd be spoken to, one-on-one, like a total communication breakdown.

We're a very frugal family. I was taught (probably from the day I was born!) to save, save, save. I remember getting thirty cents per day for school allowance all throughout primary school. After a few years, it increased to fourty cents! haha. And even then, I was able to save. I remember how I'd worry myself sick if some other kid stole my stationeries because mum won't be buying me new ones. Instead, I'd get scolded.

But that is not to say we lived a very miserable, sad, poverty-stricken life. Of course my standard of living was much better than many others as it was much worse. There is a balance to it all when you look at it from a wider perspective, I guess.

One day, at the end of November (leading up to my favourite month), my mother called me from my aunty's place and said she'd be taking a holiday for the whole month in the form of a trip to England. She'd been spending more time at my aunties' homes - a form of staying out and away from the house as much as she could. It was a short and sweet statement that left me confused, not because I didn't understand what going for a trip meant but I couldn't get why we weren't going together as a family, or why she wasn't going with dad, why it didn't occur to her to take me along, or why the sudden decision and how come she could still go if we're financially tight?! But people who know me well enough would not be surprised that my reply to her was, "oh, okay" despite having all those questions battling in my mind.

So mum left on her exciting trip to United Kingdom alone. She didn't say how long she'd be gone. She treated me the way every adult treats a child - like kids don't know/ understand anything and with some candies and a smile, you can paint them a pretty picture. I think that if I dig deep down to tell you the truth, it would be right to say the field split into two that moment and I was on dad's team.

It was the school holidays and instead of having mum at home with me or doing our usual window shopping at Jaya supermarket and having chicken pie for lunch at the bakery and picking out Christmas gifts for relatives the way we always did every year, I was sent to my aunty's place every morning and back in the evening when dad was done with work. Yes, he had a job. But I guess the funds just wasn't enough to build the perfect housewife picture my mother had in her head.

I knew dad cried a bit. On the phone when he was chatting with my aunties and sometimes on his own. But I didn't cry. Simply because I wasn't sad. It was actually nice to have argument-free nights and not having to see my mum's unhappiness. Besides, almost every night, my dad would play boardgames with me. I enjoyed just being with my dad eventhough if it meant having to live on my aunty's cooking for a while. I was actually, quite honestly, doing just fine.

But I think my dad wanted to make things better. And he did so by planning a birthday party for me with the help of my aunties. Not just any birthday party but the kind where I could invite my school friends! Yippee! I was ecstatic. Back then, it was the coolest thing - to be able to invite your friends over to your house for your birthday. My birthdays were always celebrated with family year after year, because mum disliked the idea of having my friends (easily translated to: more kids) over. It meant more trouble, more fuss, more effort, more food, more cleaning up. This time it was gonna be different. Dad said yes and mum wasn't around. And that was fine with me.

On one of our nightly boardgame sessions, my dad felt the need to tell me something. Though he wasn't sure I was prepared for it, the timing was right. He revealed that he was married and divorced before meeting my mum and that he has two children from his first marriage. I started to cry.

My dad thought I was crying out of hurt. He got emotional too and asked if I was mad or unhappy. The truth is, I was sad. Sad because I never knew I had a brother and sister out there who didn't have their father living with them...who didn't have a dad coming home from work everyday or him to play boardgames with them at night.

In short, I was sad because I felt selfish that I had my dad all to myself. And that is just the way I am. No one teaches me to think or feel that way. And from that day onwards, I have always wanted to meet my brother and sister. I have always thought of them and always wondered how they were doing. My dad and I kept the fact that I knew about them a secret from my mum for years. We knew she'd hit the roof if she found out my dad had told me the truth. So on and off, dad would update me on how his other children were doing. I also understood that dad would have to put them through school, further education and other living expenses which was probably one of the major cause of unhappiness for my mum when our own household funds fell short.

Yearsssssss passed. My mum now knows that I know. It's fine to her because I'm all grown up now.

This year, my dad turns sixty. I've been cracking my head thinking of something memorable to celebrate his birthday with. And I knew a great party just wouldn't do it. It has to be special and not just measured by a large scale.

My dad isn't a man of costly gifts, huge parties and a big numerical six-zero cake. He's a very simple person who enjoys mee goreng from his favourite mamak for Sunday night dinner and appreciates the wine and dine experience only once in a very blue moon. He can be sincerely happy just to get a pair of socks for Christmas because he believes it's the thought that counts most.

I cracked my head for months and decided that the best birthday gift I could plan for my dad would be a simple dinner with all his children. :) Never have we all met up before and this would be a great surprise.

To cut a long story short, the surprise was successful. Dad was overwhelmed with joy and the moment was priceless. I had to try hard to control my tears. The few days of e-mail planning and hour leading up to dinner was somewhat nervewrecking as I didn't know if things would work out well. I was the first to arrive at the restaurant and waited in my car anxiously hoping God will make the night flow smoothly. And He did. :)

My siblings and I have a lot in common...mostly traits that were passed down from dad. We spoke like good friends and left no room for a single awkward moment. The night was splendid until I received urgent calls and messages from my boss halfway through dinner. He needed to get the number of a person which he left in the office and...well, my boss doesn't know how to open up the office. Neither does he know how to lock up. That among many other things. He's not the only one in the office who takes things for granted. The fact that there will always be someone else to do the job, and so there is simply no need to learn. There's always the accounts lady, the G.M.'s personal assistant, and yours truly to depend on. Well, the contrary will prove its ugly head when any one of us leaves.

In any case, I stretched dinner for a little longer until my sister-in-law said we should leave so I could make my way back to the office.

As I was driving off, my dad sms to describe that night as the best birthday gift he has ever been given and how much he thanks God for having a daughter like me. Needless to say, I started tearing in the car and if you think no one can see you in the car crying at night, think again. The reflecting street lights and headlights from oncoming cars will be sufficient to shine on you for drivers in other cars to think you're probably sobing over a broken relationship. Well, they're wrong. haha.
As I was wiping the tears away (I had to avoid reaching the office with red eyes), my brother sent me a message. He thanked me for the night and said how happy he was to meet me and that if I ever need anything, he'll be there for me. And that was it. Waterfalls of joy. ;)