A few years ago, my daddy moved back to Vietnam to live. I can say that I was not the best daughter during my teenage years, always trying to talk back and be the rebellious daughter he had. When he moved back to Vietnam, I hardly talked on the phone because when we did talk on the phone, all he asked was for me to send him money. I didn't like it how money was the only thing my daddy seemed to care about. I was just a college student, not making enough money to spare. My sisters every month would send him about $100 or so for his expenses, since we assumed that he was living with my uncle, and we assumed that the living expenses in Vietnam was cheap. Then two years later, my daddy was severely ill. He has two type two diabetes, and for some reason,his glucose level sky rocket to the 500s. My sisters sent hundreds of dollars within a week, hoping the doctors there can lower his sugar level. He was hospitalized for almost two weeks, and during those two weeks, I called him three times a day. I told my daddy that after I finished summer school, I will visit him. He was so happy when I told him that. On the third week, he was given permission to be discharge, but I wished he just stayed in the hospital. Within a few days returning home, my sister received a deadly call notifying us of that our dad has just passed away. At that moment, I wished it was a joke. I wished my daddy was behind that phone laughing, because he was all better. That was what the doctor said.
Looking back, I wished that my daddy had never returned back to Vietnam. He was tired of living with my second oldest sister because they had some dispute over money, and this lady in Vietnam constantly. If he wouldn't have returned back to Vietnam, then he wouldn't have to be in the hands of doctors who did not know what they doing. Personally, I loathe doctors in Vietnam because I don't think they are educated enough to understand how to treat a human being without being corrupted, and constantly asking the patient for more money. It happened once to my mom, and now he happened to my dad.
When my daddy lived here in America with us, he always argued with my sisters over so many trivial things. He would always want to visit Vietnam for a month, and come back. My sisters always tell him to stay there longer, so he won't have to spend much on air fare. Then they would argue about the living situation because my daddy did not have a house of his own. After my sister married,we stop living with my aunt and uncle, and we moved in to live with her. I'm grateful that my sister and my brother in law has allowed us to live with them, but I wished my second oldest sister was not that ill tempered, always arguing with my daddy, and making him ashamed to live with his son in law.
Back then, I would always get mad at daddy easily too. I did not like it when I would buy my daddy gifts, and he would not use it because he saved them to give to people in Vietnam. I would get mad at my daddy, and I don't understand why he does that. The topic of discussion for my daddy always involved money, and as I grew up, I didn't feel the strong bond we had anymore. I told myself back then that my daddy was not like other dad, who would care and place their children first in line. My daddy placed money and this lady he was seeing, or I thought those were his priorities.
Now, I wished my daddy was here. I don't care if he wants a million dollars or wants to be with that lady. All i want is to have my daddy again. Two years have passed since his death, but I still can't get over it. When I was sad, I would always talk to him, and he would always spoil me. Now, when I'm sad, I don't have my daddy anymore to tell him people who mistreated me. I wished my daddy can hear me talk when I'm sad because some things, even my boyfriend can't be the ideal listener. I'm disappointed at myself for hurting my relationship with my daddy. If time can rewind, then I would want to be with my daddy more than with anyone else.
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