Nothing to say, yet
Transcription
The speaker reflects on their difficult relationship with their father, who was physically and verbally abusive. Despite years of therapy and self-development, the speaker struggled with their emotions towards their father. However, towards the end of their father's life, they had a moment of compassion and even said "I love you" to him. After their father's death, the speaker realizes that their father was searching for ways to understand and improve himself, as evidenced by the books they left behind. The speaker acknowledges that they have become their father's daughter by becoming a therapist and finding healing through self-help books and therapy. They express gratitude to their father for teaching them valuable lessons and honor his memory by taking care of his books. It's 1.14 p.m. on 8th of November. I've been thinking about podcasts and I've just been mulling over it and just putting it off. But today, while I'm cleaning out my bookshelf, I'm organizing the bookshelf and I've come across one group of books. They're very old, some are torn, they're tattered. These books belonged to my father. Of course, I didn't get all of his books. Some of my sisters have taken whatever they wanted. I want to do this podcast in honor of my late father. I may get a little emotional about this. My father and I had a very difficult relationship. He was physically abusive and verbally. And until the age of 17, when the physical abuse stopped, my mother had died, so everybody flew the coop. Even when mother was alive, everybody tried to fly the coop. I'm sipping on my drink. So I had to live with him and when he stopped hitting me, the emotional, the verbal abuse continued. In fact, the verbal abuse got worse. I grew up completely frightened of him. I grew up hating him, but wanting his love desperately. So when I moved, when I worked, when I was in KL and I had to, he lived with my sister, so I would avoid him. If we were walking in the opposite directions, I would look away or I would go to the side. I just didn't want to look at his face. I didn't want to have anything to do with him. For years, as I had therapy, I worked on really father issues. As I continued workshops, inner workshops, you know, self-development workshops, and when I could afford therapy, etc. But I was still struggling, struggling. And I remember walking along Boat Quay in Singapore once with a friend, and I was grumbling and griping about my father. And this friend of mine stopped, looked at me and said, Lovey, it's got nothing to do with your father. It's got to do with you. You've got to heal. Your father's not going to change. You change. You go and sort yourself out. I was really mad at my friend for saying this to me. I sulked for the rest of the evening. And as years went, I continued the work. And then there was a time, so when he was in his early 90s, I think he died when he was 92, and about six months before he died, I sat at the table with him. I had arrived from Singapore at my sister's house and just catching up. So the first thing I noticed was, Ah, I don't want to run away. I feel okay sitting next to him. And then he put his hands on mine. How are you? He asked me. I noticed that I didn't want to pull my hands away. So I put my other hand on him. I'm good, Pa. And I felt compassion and kindness for him. And then a few weeks later, my sister was going overseas. So I arrived at her house to take care of him for a week. He was bedridden. And one day, I was sitting next to him, stroking his bald head, skeletal. He had lost so much of weight. And I don't know why, as I stroked his head and I looked into his eyes, I said, I love you, Pa. I don't know why I said that, because I don't think I really loved my father. Or maybe I did. So he mouthed something, and I couldn't hear it. So I said, What, Pa? I put my ear next to his lips. And he said, I love you too, Ma. And when he said that, I thought, If you loved me, why did you hurt me so much? If you loved me, why did you hurt me? Why did you beat me? Why did you physically and verbally abuse me? So, father died about a week or two later. After he died, we were going through his things in his room. As I stood looking at his books, I'd seen this book so many times before. But as I stood looking at this book, I suddenly had a thought, Oh, my God. Oh, my God, this man was He was looking for a way out of his demons, because I looked at all the books. And the books were Religion of Man, Psychology of Man's Possible Evolution, Meditation and Life. And I thought, Oh, my God, this man was looking for a way out of his demons, because I looked at all the books. Psychology of Man's Possible Evolution, Meditation and Life. I'm reading these books now, right, the titles. Self-Hypnotism, Public Speaking and Influencing Men in Business, Heaven Lies Within Us, Founding the Life Divine, A Series of Lessons in Vajra Yoga. These are just a few books I have. There's so many other books that my sisters took. And I stood there and I thought, Oh, my God. He was trying to find a way to understand his demons. He was looking for ways to make himself better. He was struggling. And so apart, I've become my father's daughter because I've become a therapist. I started reading self-help books like you, and then I had therapy, after therapy. And I made peace with you just before you died, because, you know, I had had I had had about 10 years, perhaps, of therapy, or maybe seven years, desperate to heal, desperate, desperate, desperate to heal. And I'm glad I had a chance to make my peace with you. It wasn't easy. I still had nightmares after you died. I still had moments of sadness and grief. But really, I, I thank you. You actually taught me so many things. And now, as I keep my bookshelf and I take care of your books with gentleness, making sure they don't fall apart, I honor you. Thank you, Pa.
