A note for my father (I still miss you)

I don't know why I never thought to write about my father before. Although the memory of him is still warm in my heart even today. Maybe the lost of him was still painful for me to write it down in words. Funny how sadness sometimes lingers in your heart and don't want to fade away easily as years go by. Especially the lost of your loved ones.I was only nine years old when my father died. He had been sick for three months. It was his liver. And he spent a month in hospital. One rainy evening an ambulance came and I was told that my father had just passed away. We were alone in the house that evening; my younger sister who was eight years old, my youngest brother who was five years old and myself. The empty house was suddenly full with my relatives. One of my aunts took us to our room and gently... oh so gently... told us not to cry. She said that my father went to heaven and if we cried he could not open the heaven's door. I hold my siblings' hands and send them silent message to brave ourselves. (I was the eldest at the moment, both my eldest sister and brother were busy with the preparation for my father's funeral). Not even a single tear escaped from our eyes. (Come to think of it now, it was not a very wise thing to do for my aunt not to let us cry. Even children have a right to cry to express their shock and sadness. For many years after that night I had difficulties to express myself, especially my sadness. For sometimes I even lost my ability to mourn over my father).My father was the best father in the world. He was caring and sometimes funny, teasing us his children. Every morning he boiled us eggs for breakfast and made sure that we took our multivitamins before we went to school. Whenever his job allowed, he took us himself to school. On our way to school, he would stop by in a small bakery shop and bought us extra sweet breads although our mother had packed us some lunch.But don't get me wrong, my father was never weak. He set us some rules to follow; especially on manners. Not to speak during meals, not to laugh out loud and not to go out after dark were some of his rules. And don't ever think to break it or he would get angry. He never laid his hands on us, though, but it did not stop us from trembling whenever he was angry. He only had to look at us with his angry eyes and we went into jelly.There are more other things that I remember about him. But most of all, in his short life (he was only 45 years old when he died) he was a good father for his children. I love you Bapak. There are times when I still wish that you were here with me... It would be a pleasure for me to be able to introduce you to my husband and my children. You would see that Bimo, my youngest, looks very much like you...