I don't remember ever celebrated Father's Day with my dad.
No, he didn't die when I was very young; in fact, my estranged dad is alive and kicking, somewhere. I don't exactly know where. He had given me his name card, but I think I had misplaced it already.
My parents divorced when I was young. My dad deposited my brother and I with our grandparents while he formed another family. We used to see him, once a month, then once every few months, then once every Chinese New Year. Then, occasionally once every few years. Now, once in a blue moon when we bumped into each other on the street.
So much had been reported on the importance of an involved father in the growth and development of a child. Children with dads who are active in parenting, perform better in school, show lesser behavioral problems, are more confidence and have greater chance of being successful when they grow up.
It is believed that young women often look for men resembling their own father; and if their fathers had been dirt bags in their growing years, you can imagine the kind of disaster that are awaiting the future of these women.
If you could close your eyes and recall the images of your dad in your childhood, what was it like?
Did you see your dad bringing you for walks? Did he carry you on his back? Did he read to you at bedtime?
Or was he never around when you needed him? Is he cold, distant, unapproachable or punitive?
To those dads who have eyes glued to your Iphone/Ipad all the time, is that how you really want your children to remember you by when they grow up?
I closed my eyes. There was an image in my mind - a still and invisible figure.
I guess, that must be my dad.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy, wherever you are.