Somebody tell him, I love him.

Still incapable of expressing how I feel, and can’t just put his photo on my story and be done with it.

I remember once I just stopped-by my father’s shop and he was still working so I waited outside. I was fairly young, always angry about financial situation at home and then something happened, I saw him wrap-up the whole shop, it may sound very stupid. But, what I saw was this old man moving these plenty of things inside the shop, arranging them and only to move them back outside tomorrow and inside again later and do that everyday.

He does that everyday, sometimes he does not make good sale, but he still have to do it, I still remember that feeling, how amazing it is not get demotivated by lack of sales, support from us, and other daily struggles. He does that routine everyday, tries to do better everyday and comes back home with no work related cry but only his love in form of chocolates and desserts.

I knew I wanted to be bigger, better at things than I was. I knew I wanted to make him proud, I hope I have.

Pushing away maa when she tries to hug me,
only to make her squeeze me even more.

Leaving my bags downstairs when I go home,
to let my brother pick them to just get that feeling of being loved.

Sit in uncle-aunt’s room for hours,
to make them ask me questions and express everything I missed.

But it is not easy to see papa express love,
maybe that is how complicated both of us are.

I know how proud and happy he has been seeing me succeed,
maybe that is his love language.

A part of me wants to only grow bigger to make him happier,
and enable both of us to express, my gratitude and our love.