Who says bringing up daughters is going to be easy?

Who says bringing up daughters is going to be easy? 

Last night, at the family dinner, I boo-boo’ed. We were discussing about a coming Bali trip and it involved climbing some mountain.

My daughter (14) was there too. She wanted to climb. We were briefed about taking a bus in the wee hours of the morning to start the ascend as early as 3 am, if not earlier. The goal was to catch the first light of day. 

Our group of amateur mountaineers was a mixed bag which included my daughter’s aunts, her older brother and her younger male cousin, together with our ever-muscular de facto guide, whom the kids lovingly addressed as uncle Raveen. 

For those physically fit, we were told that it would take 2 hours to reach the top. For those less fit, it would take 4 at least. So, there was a perceived sense of urgency to make it up on time to enjoy the first rise of the day. 

My concern at that time was whether my daughter will drag the team behind. I feared she would take extra rests and deprive the group of catching the first light. So, that was where I found my foot in my mouth - not a rare occurrence in our weekly family dinner mind you. 

I said in jest, “So Jerica, you are the weakest link, you think you are up to it?”

Ouch! That was it. That was all it took and I could taste the sole in my gums immediately after I said it. It was not my “best moments” with my daughter and we had quite a few of those moments of jest and laughters. This moment was however a big minus in our father/daughter relation. 

You know the boos and jeers that Trump got in the World Series and UFC at Madison Square? Well, I got mine (deservingly) from the other family members, especially the aunts and yes, the mom. 

As Jerica’s head was lying on her folded arms on the table, Anna turned to me and gesticulated like she was warning me of a coming tsunami wave. At one point, I could have sworn I saw her inviting me to a UFC smackdown. 

So, there it is, a daughter lost and a father in remorse. As the briefing went on, all I could hear was her broken heart and mine too both for the same reason - what I’d said, the unfiltered words. 

And coming back full circle, yes, it is not easy bringing up daughters. I have two young ones. 

Sometimes, you disappoint yourself much more than they can disappoint you. And as a father, the onus is on me to lead the way, both in deeds and, well, words. The age gap of a few decades ought to have made that obvious enough, right? 

And well, truth be told, I am never too good with words that come out of the mouth, and I was hoping the words that come out of my hand (or fingers) can make it up here. Incidentally, the lesson this morning has become...me.

So after the briefing, I went to find Jerica but she had gone to the toilet. I could hear some sniffing and water running and I decided to give her some space. 

That night, while driving the family home, I broke the dead silence to apologise to her. I told her daddy is quite a monstrous work in progress. I told her I am sorry to let the tongue loose, unmoored from the brain and heart. 

I was actually expecting a hailstorm from her. I was in fact all Kevlar-up for a combat round of oral ammunition. How shortsighted of me.

And what surprised me was her reply. She said, “it’s okay dad. I understand.” 

Although I was not going to take it for granted and let go, (i thot of explaining further with, yes, words), I however decided there and then to let it go. For me, I think the last thing to say is to say anything. That was also the moment I had the last taste of the shoe in my mouth. 

We then drove home in the silence of the night. And while the Christian music was playing in the background, I thought a little about parenthood, about fatherhood. 

There are many moments where we as fathers hold their tiny little hands to cross the road, to assure them to take the first step, to encourage them in the first day of school, and to give them the confidence coming from our unconditional love for them. 

Alas, one day, I will have to let the same tiny little hands go and trust that the other love of her life will continue this undying father’s heartbeat for her. 

But one thing I can count as a blessing is that such moments also include times when I sit by her side and learn from her. And that moment when she said, “it’s okay dad, I understand” was that moment in question. It was the moment when the roles were reversed, that is, the child grew up and the father woke up (that night, she held my hands). 

Maybe, I have done something right along the messy road of fatherhood to have deserved a taste of those moments when iron indeed sharpens iron, regardless of the age gap.