Never all that fond of 'Growing Up'

 When we grow up,I believe that..we perhaps will lose someone who became such a great role to you.The thing which matters the most is your parents....who start having wrinkles on their cheeks as you become so busy growing up....socializing with your friends.

 To me,my number one role is my dad.Not even knowing why or how.My father is someone who takes care of me,who fulfills my everyday needs.He works since the sun rises,until it sinks again,without even saying the world tired,and not even mumbling.He wont yell a lot if I do crazy stuffs around him.

 If I have to be honest,I sometimes fight with my dad.My father is not a temperamental person.He's light-hearted.But once he becomes mad,he probably will hit the ceiling.I couldn't imagine my life without my father.Really,losing your father's figure is always the hardest.

I wonder sometimes, late at night, as to what has become of all of us.We used to be so open, so... affectionate.There would be hugs and forehead kisses, cuddles, even bedtime stories accompanied by a glass of warm milk.Before you would sing sister and me to sleep.

I remember quite clearly the nights when you would carry me up the stairs

Drop me on my bed

I remember the care with which you tucked me in and how the sheets always would feel warmer when you're there.

I remember spending long days out, with even longer car rides home. 

I recall faking sleep a great number of times, just so I could be carried to bed.So I could be held by you just that much longer.

And, when the nightmares came, you were always willing to listen to my childish babble....Ready to tuck me in again or even let me crawl in your bed to sleep between you and Mom.

I remember being able to sleep so soundly with the knowledge that your door was always open,that I could always run to get you in the long hours of the night. I was always safe.

I can't put a date to when all of this changed.I don't know when you stopped singing to me, or to when you stopped putting me to bed... although I'm sure that my staying up later than anyone else surely contributes to part of it.

I don't know when I started sleeping in colder sheets, or when I began reading myself to sleep. I don't know when I started sleeping with my door shut... or when you began to close yours.

It's so lonely, holed up in my room at an ungodly late hour, craving sleep yet unable to reach it. It's not any better, knowing I'll only live here for less than 15 years, before I have to stop seeing you altogether. It's so damn hard, growing up, leaving our closeness behind. It's only worse knowing you'll all get by just fine, will be better off without the restrictions of my pickiness, laziness, or negativity.

I thought I'd gotten over it, that I'd be able to suffer the parting just fine. I thought I'd be able to leave us in the past, or give you a new role in my life. I suppose I thought wrong... as per usual.

I woke up this morning, dazed and confused, to feel your added weight on the side of my bed, and, unless I was still dreaming, the pull of your fingers through my hair. I did not open my eyes, did not move my body, other than to call your name. I think, you may have asked me something, but then -- then I fell back asleep.

And now, here it is, already past 9, and long past my actual-bedtime. My door is shut, and so is yours, and not a note sung before sleep. Nothing much has seemed to have changed, not a day even gone by. It's our same old pattern, our old God forsaken routine, my new lullaby. All is the same and yet...

I know things will never change, you'll always keep your place. You're at the top on my list of "favorite things," right next to mom and my little sister. And, God knows, I miss you, in the long hours of the night. I miss you as I pull blankets up over my sheets, and as I sing myself to sleep.

You know, don't you Daddy, that I was never all that fond of growing up...