Daddy

Hail Mary, Full of Grace, the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now,
And at the hour of our death. Amen.

“Hail Mary, full of grace…” the six-year-old child whispered, clutching tightly on to the rosary. The plastic beads were damp in her sweaty hands, but she refused to stop.

Teacher had said, ask Mother Mary, and Mother Mary will ask Jesus to save your Daddy. And then Daddy will feel no more pain because teacher promised her that Heaven was painless.
So her teacher passed her the rosary beads as a gift two days ago when she came to learn of the news. Little Ching Ling hung onto the life-line, praying the rosary for the past two days during the wake without fail.

Actually, Ching Ling wanted many things. But she said Our Father and Hail Mary and Glory Be over and over again because her poor mind never found the words to say. Saying these prayers every day at school assembly meant that she knew them well. She could only recite them ceaselessly because six-year-olds were unimportant and should not demand things from God, and so she never dared to ask.

But she wanted to ask if He could wake Daddy up. Daddy looked very handsome and peaceful in his suit, but she thought the box was not very comfortable compared to the nice bed at home. Besides, Mummy also looked very lost without him. She seemed tired because she had not slept all night. Ching Ling knew because she had put her ear to the wall and heard Mummy cry the whole night.

She did not like the hard plastic chair she was sitting on, nor the people who moved in and out whispering, “Our condolences…” whatever condolences meant. And there were some people who would walk with Mummy to Daddy in the box, and she did not like the look in their eyes when they looked at him. But some made the sign of the cross at Daddy’s box, and Ching Ling decided then these few uncles or aunties were slightly nicer people.

Ching Ling also did not like the flowers that came. They came mounted on white metal sticks, roughly bunched together. There were lilies, chrysanthemums, daisies and some other kinds that Ching Ling did not know because teacher had not taught her in class. They were all pink, white or yellow. Plus, they came with cards scribbled with words so long Ching Ling could not read. And these sticks of flowers were strewn around the entire area, which scared her because they were like giants towering over her tiny frame as she weaved past them to move around.

No, Ching Ling liked tulips the best. Why didn’t anyone give tulips? Daddy liked tulips too. They had gone Holland last year, and there were many, many tulips in this pretty garden. And Daddy had bought for her yellow tulips that were tinted purple at the bottom. “For my little princess,” he had grinned mischievously, as he passed the bouquet to her.

“Jasmine, our condolences to you…” Ching Ling squirmed as another batch of people moved into the void deck and greeted her mother. There was the shaking of hands, awkward embraces and faltering voices-a flurry of activity that Ching Ling detested because the movements gave her such her headache. She hadn’t been able to sleep well because Daddy had not come to kiss her goodnight or tuck her in. And Mummy had forgotten to do so since she was so busy crying.

“Ching, come here!” She cringed at her name being called-she would rather have been ignored.

“Come and say hello to the aunties and uncles from Mummy’s office.”

They patted her head gently and gazed at her with a look she could not understand, although if she had been older, she would have known that the look was pity. She did not like being looked at by adults. It made her feel as though she had done something wrong.

Was that why Daddy went away?

“The tumour was in the final stages… Oh yes, he died very peacefully… Didn’t suffer any pain at all…”

“Yes, yes we’ll be okay… Thank you for your concern…She’s been very well-behaved, Alex has raised her well…”

Ching Ling swung her legs at the table where her mother made her sit. She was uncomfortable at the murmurings of her mother and her friends, and the heat of the void deck was unbearable. But little things made Mummy angry nowadays and Ching Ling didn’t like it when Mummy scolded her. She would pull her ears and made her stare at the walls of her bedroom. She remembered yesterday, when she had accidentally spilt her cup of water, and Mummy had sent her back to her room. Daddy was different though even when he was very stern- his punishments always ended with a hug and a cone of chocolate ice cream.

When her mother’s back was turned to see some friends or relatives off, Ching Ling slipped away from the table. She wanted to go to the nearby playground where the swings were, where Daddy and Mummy would spend their Sunday afternoons after church with her. She missed the swings-she hadn’t been there for months.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and the playground was rather secluded. She sat on her favourite swing, fashioned out of an old tire and rusty metal chains, and rocked herself gently to a light nap. She was so tired, and Mummy wouldn’t know…

“Ching Ling! Ching!” The worried voice woke her up and she saw Uncle Sam, Daddy’s best friend. Her favourite uncle! She ran towards him, with the rosary flying around her neck as he scooped her little frame into his arms.

“Come on, Ching. Your mother’s worried.” He spoke softly. “And the evening prayers are starting soon. Don’t you want to pray for Daddy?”

She nodded, burying her face in his shoulders as he carried her back to the void deck. He left her there and went back to the house to get her mother who was preparing some food, before the prayers started in twenty minutes time. Ching Ling felt alone.

“Aunty Jo,” she asked Daddy’s younger sister. “Can I go back home to take Zoe? I’ve no friends here.”

Jo, who was moving chairs for the visitors, smiled and nodded wordlessly. Ching Ling did not see the tears on her face when she turned and ran to the lift.

The door was opened when she reached the house. She ran into her room for her favourite teddy bear-Daddy’s Christmas present to her last year, and placed the rosary over its neck. Clutching Zoe tightly, she wandered into the kitchen to look for cookies for Mummy, since Daddy always said chocolate made people feel better.

And what she saw wanted to make her scream, although she didn’t.

Right next to where the cookie jar was, Mummy was clutching onto Uncle Sam, sobbing painfully, her face buried in his chest. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, hugging her tightly, stroking her hair and whispering comfortingly into her right ear.

“It’s ok, Jas. It’s ok.” He soothed. His hands slid to her hips, and Ching Ling’s mothers arms moved automatically to tighten around his neck in response.

Only Daddy can hug Mummy like that!

She turned and fled, and knocked over a standing vase that crashed onto the floor. Her mother must have heard, for she called out her name over and over again.

But Ching Ling had already slammed the door shut and locked herself in her bedroom. She slid against the door onto the floor, and began sobbing.

Her mother and Uncle Sam were knocking at the door furiously, imploring her to come out. But Ching Ling ignored them. She wanted her Daddy back, not them.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with Thee…”

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…