It’s been so many years, Dad.
I finally dreamed of you.
In my dream, we were eating delicious food together in a restaurant, walking around, buying lots of chocolates and snacks.
We were about to go home together — but then some noise from outside woke me up.
Everything was gone.
I broke down and cried.
I didn’t know if I should be happy that you came into my dream, or sad that we can no longer talk face to face.
Dad, honestly, I don’t know if I’m still the kind of person you’d be proud of.
Back then, I refused your company and chose to come to Japan alone.
You both said I was brave.
But I never thought that would be our last goodbye.
I never got to hug you again.
Still, I’m grateful — at least you once came to Japan, saw how I was living, saw how hard I tried to be independent.
Now, I’m working at a Japanese company.
The salary is okay — enough to occasionally treat my little sister to nice food, and to afford the flight home to Malaysia every year, plus a family trip together.
But deep down, I still feel guilty.
Mom supported me through university all by herself, and I managed to graduate with good grades.
Yet I didn’t find a high-paying job or one that felt truly “right.”
I chose a job that gives me a little bit of freedom.
So please forgive the “lying-flat（to give up on competing）” version of me — I just want to keep things as they are.
I’ve tasted a kind of freedom at work:
no constant phone calls,
no bowing and smiling to people all day,
no overtime,
and comfortable relationships with colleagues and my boss.
Maybe right now I won’t be someone “successful,” but I don’t regret my choice.
Every time I visit you, I have so much I want to say — to tell you how I’ve been doing.
But when I’m there, all I can say is:
“Daddy, I here to see you.”
Everything else stays stuck in my throat.
Thank you for driving us to and from school every day,
for getting wet in the rain just so we wouldn’t,
for being strict when we were kids,
for the jam sandwiches you made every morning,
and for the pocket money you secretly gave us behind Mom’s back.
Finally, I just want to tell you —
I miss you so much.
I’ll live well. I promise.
2025/10/08