There’s this story that still lingers in my head for almost
five years and I still remember every second of it. The story of two people: a
father and his daughter. Of course it’s about my dad and I.
It all happened on September 2010.
I was on a trip to Israel with my dad and many other people
from our group. It was probably the longest father-daughter quality time I’ve
ever had with my dad because mostly we do it with my sister.
We were queuing at the border of Egypt and Israel. The system
worked pretty strange to me. We got down from the bus, carried our own luggage
all the way from the parking lot to the Israel’s Immigration Office to take
care of our passports and stuff.
Long story short, it was finally my turn to get my passport
checked by the officer. My dad was currently having his passport checked on the
counter next to mine. The guy opened my passport and took a little glance at my
face, making sure if I was the owner of my own passport. (Obviously)
“Are you here alone?” He finally spoke up.
“No, I’m here with my dad.” I answered truthfully.
“Where is he?” He tried to look behind my shoulder to find
the man but of course he didn’t see him because my dad was standing next to me.
The same thing probably happened to my dad. The woman behind
the counter asked him the same question and his answer was that he wasn’t
alone.
Sadly, what he said was “I’m here with a group.” Completely
leaving the ‘Daughter’ word.
Now back to the guy behind the counter in front of me. “I
don’t see your father. Where is he?” Sighing, I pointed to my dad’s counter.
“There.”
With a different language, he called the woman who was
checking my dad’s passport. They started saying things I couldn’t understand,
but from what I saw, they were talking about my father and I. The guy kept
pointing at my passport, specifically my photo. My
no-expression-passport-photo.
Dad came to my side with a face full of concern.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, but I just shrugged.
What made me confused was that they looked like they were
comparing our passports and laughed –more like snickered. I was annoyed.
Scratch that. Pissed. That was offensive!
You should never have had done such thing.
“What’s your full name?” he suddenly asked after what seemed
like ages.
“Linkan Rinynda Tesalonika Letlora.” I answered instantly,
not missing any beat. I have to admit, I was hella proud of myself.
“Why is there no ‘Letlora’ on your passport?”
Oops.
“Some birth certificate problem when I was a baby. They
forgot to put Letlora as my last name. So…” I drifted, not knowing what to
answer.
He just nodded and kept staring at me with a raised eyebrow.
Why wasn’t this guy convinced? I raised an eyebrow back at him. In your face, grandpa, I thought.
What’s worse was the guy asked me the most unbelievable
question.
“Are you sure he is
your father?”
Shocked with the question, I glared at him, and answered.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“What’s his full name?”
Are you kidding me
right now?
“Alexius Letlora. No middle name” I mumbled.
He glanced down at my dad’s passport and the woman next to
him was staring coldly at my face. What
was your problem, woman?
“When and where was he born?” He continued, without looking
away from the passport in his *shudders*
hairy hand.
“Surabaya, Indonesia, April 7th 1964.”
“Alright that’s all. Both of you may go.”
I looked up to my dad and found him smiling down at me and I
couldn’t do anything else other than to smile back at him. I was glad I got
through that stupid situation with him. Because if I wasn’t I would have mocked
the daylights out of that guy.
Because of our little situation, the line got full and they
had to open two counters on my left. I
know right?
What I’m trying to say from this story is that I’m glad I
know my father very well and I’m lucky to have a special bond with him. (You
too mom.) But I have to say that I’m more of a daddy’s girl. I’m really close
with my dad.
I’m also glad that God has blessed me with an amazing father
like him. He is definitely a great father and has the best father figure. He’s
always with me through the ups and downs. He’s always there for me and he’s got
my back.
Although sometimes (I’m sorry, dad) I can be quite mad at
him because of his rules, I know he does everything for our best and that what
makes my ‘anger’ vanished.
I’m grateful to have my dad and to know that other people
see me as a reverend’s daughter. Honestly, just because I’m a reverend’s
daughter I can’t do things normal teenagers do. I can, but I set my own limits
and boundaries on what can I do and what can’t I do.
My dad has his own teenaged life too in his young age. He
wasn’t ashamed to tell me about all the pranks he pulled to his college friends.
He was the master of pranks back then in his university and that confused me.
How did he end up being a reverend?
He even told me that one of his teachers told him that he
would never be a reverend. Well voila! Look at him now.
All in all, I want to say Happy Birthday, dad.
You’re my dad, my best friend, and my hero. Because let’s
face it, not all heroes wear capes.
Thanks for everything you taught and your efforts to be a
great dad. I appreciate everything you do and I’m sorry if I ever let you down.
I promise I’ll try to be better.
Also thank you for not giving up on me when I was at my
lowest point of life. I wouldn’t be able to face the world if it wasn’t for you
and because of you.
I hope our bond gets stronger and stronger each day and I’m
wishing you all the best of luck in your job. Never stop spreading the story of
God and never give up because as what you always tell me, I got your back. We
got your back, dad.
I love you.
Sincerely, your eldest daughter,
Linkan Rinynda Tesalonika………..Letlora :p
