My 52-Weekly Journal: Week 07 // A Superman’s Tear

My Father was, in every literal way, a Superman.

That’s why when I saw him standing up there, in front of a panel of judge, standing trial for a crime he did not do, it broke my heart.

Now let’s head back a little.

Being one from the survivor’s generation after the war, the Baby-boomers, my Dad was the embodiment of toughness. Life was hard when he was a boy, having to grow up in a country recovering from the devastating effect of the war (now can we all agree that war is stupid?), and surviving was all that matters back then.

He then got into the army, being bright and full of good morals and also a simply lovable person, his career was as smooth as it can be. And frankly speaking, it wasn’t hard for him being in the army, discipline was–after all–the easiest way to describe the man, even from when he was a kid.

And he was a Superman.

He’s as strong as one, as charming as one, as ready to help people in need as one, and he’s got all that “you-can-count-on-me” aura on him, the only thing missing from him being a Superman is that he can’t fly on his own (not that it’s earth-physically possible anyway). And one thing that convinced me he was a Superman was the fact that: he never let out a single drop of tear.

Well never in front of people. All in my 25 years of living, he only cried three times, and I was there to witness all of it.

The first time, I couldn’t quite remember, was the day I was born. My Mum had quite a lot of fun retelling this story from time to time, “The toughest captain in all the battalion, the man who was called the Iron Fortress in the army, but when I hand him his crying little daughter for the first time, he got all soft and meek and all squishy when he sat down and proceeded crying along with his newborn girl.” was how she’d describe it. My dad still insist that that wasn’t the case.

The second time — I was the only witness this time — was when my step-Grandma died. My real Grandma died giving birth to my Dad, so my step-Grandma (she was my real Grandma’s best friend) took him in, having two children on her own already but that wasn’t a problem for her. She loved him like he was her own kid, and every bit of the man my Dad is today, he got it from her. And she was the one person that my Dad respected the most. When she died, my Dad took care of everything, being the reliable man that he was. But I realized it later that night he might have done it so that he’s distracted from the real thing. It was late — 2.52 a.m. — I went out to get some water. Now mind you, my Dad never drinks, but when I get out that night there he was, sitting on a sofa in front of the fireplace, one hand on a glass of a 30-year old Old Pulteney, and another hand covering his eyes. But that wasn’t enough to stop the stream of tears coming out of it.

Now getting back to the present time. My Dad is being tried for a crime that was done by other people. If there’s one thing that can be considered as a weakness is that my Dad is too naive. He’s too trusting, always only seeing the best of people, believing that every single person on this earth bears the same kind of morality with him.

And now he’s being used as a scapegoat.

One of the very men that he tried to protect is now standing in the witness’ box, speaking against him. When that son-of-everything-that-is-wrong-with-this-world is finished giving his statement, the verdict to my Dad was inevitable. Now this case had become the spotlight of the country for some time because of something that will take too long to be told, so this trial is broadcasted to every corner of the country, meaning that at least 200 million pair of eyes is seeing this right now. And so I, and 200 million other people, witness the third time my Dad let out a drop of tear.

I know it wasn’t the guilty verdict that was killing my Dad, I know him, I know how he put his trust on people above everything else. And so I know, what hurts the most in this world is the fact that the men you’d take a bullet for…….

…….is the one behind the trigger.


Hi! I’m, again, trying to make something that is out of my character, and frankly I don’t quite like it, like something is missing from it. It’s probably just my feeling but well, hmm, it definitely isn’t the area I’m best at, this kind of writing is. Oh well anyway, this work is a pure fiction, it has nothing to do with any real world events, and if there’s any similarity, it’s purely coincidental.

Please enjoy and see you next time! 🙂


4 thoughts on “My 52-Weekly Journal: Week 07 // A Superman’s Tear

    1. Asna says:

      Hi thanks!

      Maybe I just didn’t like how I kinda finished this in a rush and can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something missing. But thanks for the kind words! 🙂

  1. Lana The Mother says:

    I really enjoyed your post, your writing style really pulled me in!
    You have penned your thoughts so beautifully, I was reading it very sweetly 🙂

    And by the way..I found your little space in the community pool, so glad I did!! amazing write up!!!keep writing and inspire us….
    Please do visit my blog when time permits, thanks in advance and see you there!

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