Dear Pa,

I know there’s no way you’ll be able to know what I’m thinking now or even read what I’m writing, but felt the need to. It’s been 3 years now that you’re gone. Sometimes I wished you were here, so I could talk to you again. I’m sorry that for the past 6 months before you were gone, we didn’t spoke. I was too angry with you, with what you were doing to our family … but it doesn’t matter now.

I wished I had the chance to buy you at least a birthday present, I’m sorry I never did. I wanted to that year, so we could reconcile, but you were gone before I could. Did you know how that felt, pa? Do you know what I wanted to buy? A carton of Benson & Hedges. I didn’t know what else I could buy that you would appreciate, I didn’t like buying cigarettes for you, but I knew you would be happy.

I regret not having spent time with you. The more I think now, what you said was true. We were alike. Now I come to realise how proud you were of me. You were the only one who was very proud of me. Now that you’re gone, I lost that support pa. I needed your assurances.

Yesterday at church, we sang Amazing Grace at the end. I couldn’t sing without having tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to sing but my voice would not come out … so I just opened my mouth. That song reminded me of you, we sang it at your funeral. I wished you were still here, then I’d bring you to church, and everything will be fine again. Sometimes I imagine how it’ll be like if you were in church with us. The friends that you would make, Pastor Kenneth is a wonderful person. I wished you had the chance to meet him. I think you would like him a lot. He did your funeral anyways. You taught me a lot and I’ve never thanked you. It was too late.

If you were still around, I would share with you my problems. At least you gave me a sympathetic ear compared to mom. There are so many things I want to tell you, but I don’t have the opportunity now. I met someone I really like; I wonder what you’ll think of her? I think you’ll like her. She’s not like the last one you met haha … total opposite.

Things are going crazy now. I took a step back and looked, they aren’t going my way. I can’t provide for the family like how you did, how did you do it? I should have listened to you when I was 15 pa, to concentrate on arts and design. Now I’m doing just that, but with computers. I know you would be so proud of me … but I’m not making money. I can’t even make enough now to marry or even start a family. I’m worried pa. What would you have done?

I wished I said “I Love You” too that night when you said that to me. Now I say it, but you can’t hear me. The night before you were gone, you said “I Hate You” and I didn’t bother because you were drunk. Then later on you said you didn’t mean it. The next day, you passed away. Thank you for saying those last words … otherwise I would have lived my live knowing you died hating me. I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings.

Nowadays I tell people how lucky they are to have a father around. I envy them pa, I really do. Every father’s day after your death, I get depressed. I want to celebrate father’s day with you again if I had the chance. I finally liked and appreciate banana rice pa. Never knew why you liked it so much, now I know why. I found a few restaurants that are really good and I know you’ll love them. I wish I could bring you there.

I really wish you were still here. I miss you.