Silent wish

I seldom see him speaks. Words only came out through his reddish eyes. That is exactly how we communicate. I look at his eyes, and then he’ll stare at me sharply. He will give his best approval through that look, or his deepest resentment with an authentic gaze.
He seldom blinks too. When I’m uttering or tattle any subject I want to discuss, suddenly his eyes turn as shiny as ruby crystal under the shower of lights if he agreed on something. But I could sense anger, while those pair of eyes stabbed my heart badly. That sharp look will crippling me in second and I won’t dare to say any further.
For some, perhaps they will consider our communications were uncommon, but for me that awkward dialogues were my precious moments. Those moments were precious indeed, not only for me but for the entire family. I still remember how my sister describes her last conversation with father. She was 22 years old that time, and a fine gentleman already proposed her. My mom already gave her blessing to them, but talk to my father is another story. She hardly talk to him, may be only once a year when she knelt to seek his forgiveness when the joy of Aidil Fitri greet us each year. So the final moment my sister asked for his blessing on her marriage has a huge meaning. She chose the finest words to say, and her fiancé gave his best promises to convince him. My father only said a few words. “Take a good care of her.” Then he gave a serene look at my sister’s. That’s how my sister describes her precious moment with father.
It is true that he seldom speaks or makes aimless chatting with neighbors. But I’m still able to hear his voice while he recites Quran verses every night. His melodious voice shrieks his deepest sorrow, cries out his silent wish to God. I love to hear his voice when the dusk waves at us.
We all knew he bear a harsh task as a father, keeps up unimaginably scores of children, faces hard-hitting pressure from every corner, rides all kinds of storms within human life and everything else. But we never capture any words of complain or grievance out off his lips. Those stiff lips shown a trace of uncounted cigarette ever slipped between, but they were always locked. Only his eyes reflect his deepest despair, and scars tinted over his skin showed his best effort to wipe out those desperation. His muscled arms exposed bold nerve, and that bold nerve streamed within my soul as I grow. Formed what I am today.
He never asked for just once while I hopped into kinds of far away journey, or expressed worries while I say good bye. Neither said anything while a sister of mine flew to reveal the depth of African's nature. A simple kiss upon his hands would be enough as a farewell sign, and then he will reply with a brief hum. Sometimes I wonder if it's normal scene to follow, but I'd rather consider his motion as a symbol of trust. Yes, he has his trust in me and it makes my steps more firm and sturdy.
As time goes by, I begin to enjoy deciding everything on my own as well as take full responsibility of any action that I’ve made. I become more and more spaced with his figure, as distance speaks in clear language. Few weeks ago father visited me, he looks older and all of his muscled has faded away. Those sharp eyes still looked reddish, but a slight milky layer has covered his used to be shiny eyes. For almost a year I never see him, hardly hear his voice reciting Quran neither nor his humming voice praising God's name. His skins clings close to the bone, and the color still as dark as a cloud, exactly like mine. He grabbed both of my hands and said something that shook me.
"All my wishes on you have fulfilled, but this single wish on you hasn't answered till today. Should I begin to worry now?" he said along with his speaking eyes.
My lips were tightly shut, and my eyes started gaze on the clean white floors like there are too many debris upon them that I want to sweep as soon as possible
…..
Thank you to remind me that the time has clicking eagerly to pursue me