The Phone Call from Raudhah...

Dad just called me from Madinah, and now I've got tears in my eyes.

When did he get so... aged? So fragile, sensitive? When did he start giving into sorrow so easily?

It felt like yesterday when we considered him the strictest father alive, with the whole 'botol kicap' incident and 'double punishment'- one for little bro, one for me- whenever lil bro failed to learn something with me. Though his strict demeanor can never be abolished by even half of what it was a decade ago, he has become much calmer, more tolerant; and now I feel like a spoilt brat.

It's funny how sad he makes me when he's not yelling or giving me harsh advice. Gentle words of advice, and well-wishes; reminders of how much they love me and hope I do better; dhu'a for my success... Those touch me more than a slap that can propel me ten feet backwards.

When we were much, much younger, we used to think our father got mad at our failures because he doesn't care.

When we were much, much, younger, we used to think his punishments towards our ill behaviour were purely mean.

When we were much,much younger, we used to think that he didn't love us enough to keep himself from scolding and punishing us with stricter means than the other dads...

And now we're older.

I'm older.

And I understand now that nothing could change how my father shows his love towards his cherished, beloved children, and the sacrifices he's made for us.

I understand now that though other dads may have never laid a hand on their children to correct them, it would probably not be best for the bunch of innately, slightly stubborn children that we were- that I definitely was. Am. Ever so slightly.

I understand now what it means when I first heard the words 'We punish you because we love you...'

I've never gone through a more emotional period in my whole life.