Inspired from an insurance Ad: A Father's Love

Staring into the mirror

The eyes stared at me. The mirror the school toilet always told the truth. In them were turmoil of frustration, shame and hurt.  They were – my eyes.  Why were they always jeering at me?  Your dad is dumb!  Your dad is a freak!  I tried to shut my ears to their taunts.  They kept ringing in my eardrums.

The Fight

My thoughts couldn’t help themselves but recalled what had happened a moment ago.  The canteen was noisy with all the chattering.  Everyone was laughing and catching up with one another.  All except me.  I was alone.  All alone by myself.  Out of the blue, Jeun patted me on my back.  Wow!  She was the ‘idol’ of the school.  Perhaps she wanted to me my friend.  I smiled.  Then, someone shouted, “There is a tortoise picture on her back!”  I stretched my hand to take it down.  On it was written:  Your dad is a freak!”

Anger besieged me.  I ran to the courtyard and pulled her hair, shouting, “Don’t you dare call my father a freak!”  We got in a fight.  She slapped me and I gave her a harder one.  Her lips bled but I didn’t care.  After a brief five minutes, our school uniforms were torn, our hairs disheveled and our bodies full of bruises and wounds.  We were sent to the principal’s office.  The verdict?  A week of suspension from school.

The suicide

I returned home and locked myself in my room.  It was my birthday and Dad was ready to celebrate for me.  I made a decision -  to kill myself.  I couldn’t take the bullying anymore. With a slash on my wrist, I waited for death to come. 

There was a loud BAM!  My dad barged in and saw me lying limply on the ground.  Beside me was a pool of crimson blood.  Speedily, he lifted me into his strong arms and dashed out of the house.  As he ran for help, my charcoal black hair was swaying along the rhythm of his movement.  He managed to hail a taxi that whisked me to the hospital speedily.

At the hospital, the men-in-white greeted him.  Fortunately, a nurse who knew sign language was with us.  Dad gestured vigorously and the nurse spoke on his behalf to the doctor, “Please save my child.  I have savings.  I will give you all I have!  I only want my child back.  She is everything to me,” Dad’s hands clasped together and knelt down to beg. 

“Give her my blood.  I will take her place,” he gestured.

“We will try our best,”  the doctors promised.

Somehow, I couldn’t my eyes at all. I could only hear.   Maybe, I was going to die.  My mind could not help but recalled the days when I was just a little child.  The time that Dad in his sign language apologized to me that he was born deaf and he couldn’t speak like other dads.   I remembered the time we flew kites together, me in my ponytails, and dad lifting me up and letting me fly like an plane.    The time that I drew a picture of us together . 

Suddenly, I realized that I had to live.  I was determined to live.  Determined to open my eyes.  To gaze into his loving eyes and tell him I would not grieve him again.   I realized that there would never be a perfect father but only one who would love you more than anything.  With that, I opened my eyes.  My dad was resting beside me, smiling.  I reached out and stroked his hand.