A Moment Too Late by Paul Chua

Just a moment too late.

 When I was young, I used to watch you play badminton with your mates. And I waited for the day to come where I would give you a challenge as strong as your friends. But I was too late; you were too weak to play.

 I waited for the day I’ll have my first pay cheque as you would be the first person I’d take out for a meal on me. But I was too late. You were too weak then to even go out.

 Starting a family and having kids of my own was my work of art I wanted to show you as a testimony to how you wonderfully brought brother and me up. But I guess that day may never come. A moment too late.

 Just like any other dad, you dream of seeing my children, your grandchildren. But we initially knew that was a far fetch. You compromised to seeing brother and I graduate. But it looks like that will need to be compromised as well. We both know you’d compromise to just seeing your whole family by your bedside before you go.

 

I knew the day would come when I would have to help you change into your clothes, just like how you did when I was young. But I never knew it would have come this soon.

 

It didn’t seem to long ago that you were a perfectly healthy person, capable of walking on your own. I remember even when you were in your early stages of being ill with cancer, you would still go jogging every morning. I never took the trouble to wake up early to join you. Now that I want to, it’s a moment too late.

 

When you fed me when I was young, I remembered that I gave you a hard time feeding me. I consoled myself by thinking it was normal for a kid that age to behave that way. Now that I feed you, I know how much trouble you went through then. I’m sorry. Your frail hands shake and you could barely drink from a straw. Now it’s my turn to pay back the favour.

 

There was once at a carnival you kept buying me balloons because I kept bursting them and blamed it on you. I’m sorry. You may upset me these days, but it’s nothing to what I used to do to you.

 

I took your money for granted and never knew the value of it. Little did I know then that you worked hard to ensure brother and my education overseas. Realising now, a moment too late.

 

You read me bedtime stories no matter how tired from work you were. I miss those times dearly. Now I tell you stories before you sleep. I hope tonight’s story won’t be the last.

 

Good night papa.

Paul Chua Kooi Kuan