Dear Dad,
It’s March 24, 2023. You’ve been gone 6 months. I miss you.
I went for a drive today to look for the yellow mustard flowers that usually swarm the hills this time of year, especially after the heavy rains we’ve been having. I was out of luck, but on the way home I saw an old silver Mercedes and it reminded me of you.
It took me back to when you used to come home from work in your silver 1970’s model Mercedes. I must have been 7 years old. And I can’t remember if you beeped at the bottom of the driveway or if I just heard your car, (as I would be anticipating your arrival in the late afternoon), and you would wait for me while I came running down the steep driveway as fast as I could to sit on the bonnet (hood) of the car. I remember the warmth of the bonnet and hanging on tightly to whatever I could reach for. The engine would rev a little as you steered the car up the long driveway into the garage. I always kept my balance despite the inclination!
It was a feeling of pure joy to have you home again. I remember feeling so excited, and today it really made me smile.
Love, Cath
xxx
Dear Cath,
I miss you too. Yes, I remember that well. I couldn’t wait to see you after my busy day at the office seeing clients. I would honk my horn, beep beep, and wait for you to come running down the hill. You would run so fast, and you never had shoes on. You would jump onto the bonnet, and then I would drive up the hill. And I revved it for a bit of excitement! I never worried you would fall. You were a pro. It was exciting that we did something a little thrilling. I know Mum didn’t really approve!
We did so many things together after I came home. Do you remember? There were the times we would go hiking after we had our tea. Just steps from the house we would find a sturdy long stick each to help us with our adventure. In those days before the surrounding area was built, our house was like an island embraced by the rainforest. Just down from the house there were narrow orangey clay paths carved through the dense jungle. I would always whistle a tune to let people know we were coming. But I don’t remember ever bumping into anyone.
I would tell you so many stories about my childhood. One time I shared how it was during the Japanese occupation when my brothers, sisters and I would hide out in the nearby jungles to be safe. I pointed out plants to watch out for, and insects to be wary of.
And of course, our walks on the Tanjung Aru beach. Do you remember how I taught you the multiplication tables by writing it out on the sand? And in between we would have a race. But I let you win! Oh, except for this one time, I had to show you how fast I really was!
I know we shared many memories and experiences. They are there to make you smile.
I hope you find your yellow mustard flowers next time.
Love, Dad.
In memory of my sweet Dad,
Thomas Jayasuriya.
(5/5/1926 – 10/9/2022)
Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those
who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation.
― Rumi
