The Death of My Father

My father was the whole world for me. He sent me to school everyday. I just started my first primary class and he was always there for me when the class finished by noon. It was after the first few weeks of sending me to school that he suffer a stomach pain and he was sent to the hospital by my sister. I was too young to understand then when he was diagnose with chronic stomach ulcer. I couldn't understand what the fuss was all about. My mom look after him in the hospital for the next four (4) months and it took a toll on my mom's health as well. She grew thinner and thinner but I guess knowing the fact that my father's illness is uncurable made her loose the purpose of living. My father died four (4) months later on 9th May 1978. He was 66 years old and me.... I was just seven (7) then. I guess you would say that my father was old but I believe he could have live longer if he had not been drinking. You see... my father even brewed his own liqour and share it with his friends evening time. Despite his drinking habit, he was never abusive, he just like to drink with his buddies. I was too young to advise him then but if I had a chance to turn back time, I would do exactly that...Advice him, he probably listen to his favorite girl.  Now I'm in my forties and I still miss him. I still remember the time when my father and I use to sit by the main door and we like to look at the moon. I use to ask him who lives on the moon and he mention that, that someone is just like him looking after me from afar. Growing up without a father was never easy. I guess you could say that I grew up overnite. My mother is illiterate, so for her to be independent was rather difficult at the beginning. She got on by though but that is another story to tell.....