Patchwork: Step-Families In Motion/Regrets over Bapak

Stepmother. Stepfather. Step-siblings. All these words conjure up different images and feelings in different people.

Many families have never experienced it. Many have and the stories are bound not to be the same. They are as diverse as the range and complexity of human behaviour itself.

Children's fairy tales have, fairly or unfairly, damaged the perception of stepmothers - no thanks to Cinderella and Snow White, especially. Many Malay movies make stepmothers seem like scheming women that hates her stepchildren and is out to clean out the family fortune. Some movies have made out stepfathers to be mad men, capable of not only harming the family members, but also the general public.

What is it about step-families that makes societal perception (and sometimes, our own reactions) less than neutral towards it?

Maybe, it's the belief or generalization that someone who is not blood-related to the children could never care for them, as much as the real parents do (although there are ample examples, where this is patently untrue)

Maybe because in the hearts of children and young adults (or sometimes, old ones for that matter), there is only a place for one set of parents - their natural father and mother - and everyone else is an inevitable addition that "they have to tolerate".

And this social recognition (which affects the degree of closeness in relationships) exceeds all situational circumstances - assuming that no utter parental neglect happens, the ties survive the damage and wreckage of broken families - and sometimes, even the death of one parent.


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Something happened a few days ago, that made me reflect really hard on how badly I had treated my own stepfather, Bapak - in my younger days.

His marriage to my mother (5 years after my late father had passed away) I felt, was intrusive. It didn't help that my late Mum did not handle the situation very delicately.

It started out horribly enough.

I got to know that they were getting married from a close and respected family friend of my mother's - about a month before they actually did. They had been dating for 6 months (a period which in which I'd noticed that Mum was noticeably happier, though more frequently absent from the house). I had met him a total of 3 times, before they were married.

Through a bit of divine intervention in a dream which involved my late father in it - I reluctantly allowed my mother to marry this stranger. I remember the chronic fear I had of losing any residual attention that I had left, from her - Mum and I were never close and she never displayed any affection, so I found myself chasing her attention - in both good and bad ways.

Having good grades helped. And being a rebel helped, too - by the time I was 15, I fought for a life without a curfew. She relented, unable to contain my anger, resentment and rebellion at her marriage.

Even though it had been 5 years since my late father had passed away, I still felt that it was too soon to leave his memory behind. I felt that the whole family seems to have obliviously moved on - as I spent almost every weekend for 5 years, visiting his grave and holding the memory of his life, intact.

But let's get back to Bapak - my stepfather.

I hardly spoke to him in the first 2 years and I didn't give him any respect, unless it was openly demanded by my mother, from time to time. It wasn't until he came to watch the first (and only) under-18 bowling tournament which I won in November 1989 - did I appreciate him enough, to give him his due respect. (Note: He was the only family member that ever attended any of my prize-givings and there were many, believe me)

But I still strongly withheld my affection - and that was strange - considering that I grew up on the love of friends and strangers.

Thereafter, I was at best - respectful and cordial to Bapak. But I still found myself mentioning my late father, frequently - as if to remind him that although he may be my mother's husband, but there was no space for an alternative father figure in my life. And that he would never be good enough a substitute - and I signalled from my reactions, that he should not even try.

My late father was an immortal in my mind - perfect and untouchable. He passed on, before he could make any mistakes which would make him seem less than superhuman, in my eyes - and as I later found out, after my Mum's passing - she had kept the image I had of my father in my mind, unblemished - despite the truth.

Up until I was in my mid-20's, I had, consciously or unconsciously, still introduced Bapak to my friends, as "my stepfather". I'm sure that I knew that this would hurt him, but I just felt that it was the right and "truthful" thing to do. I was not his son and I didn't want anyone to forget the great man, my father was.

But Bapak is an examplary man.

He was a gentleman and kind-natured, he had a good sense of humour, he cooked, he did his own laundry, he was disciplined and athletic for his age, he worked hard, he read widely, he was an avid golfer, he cut a rather handsome figure (my Mum had excellent taste in men) and most of all, he never let his ego get in the way of loving my mother, wholeheartedly. Whatever the emotional cost - he was willing to absorb it quietly.

He adored her - as difficult as she was and could be.

He moved in into the family house my father built, after his marriage to Mum - even though he had his own bungalow in Shah Alam and even though he knew that certain sections of Malay society would frown at my mother calling the shots on where to stay. Apparently, it was one of the pre-conditions of their marriage and he sacrificed his ego, in order to be with her.

And most of all - he had to tolerate me, all throughout those years.

My own marriage (and eventual long-awaited maturity) changed all that. I felt that it was a good starting point to start afresh with my own family. I started kissing his hand out of love, more than respect and I introduced him, without flinching, as "my father". I remember the first time I said that to a friend - he seemed visibly moved. I remember apologizing to him, for all the things I had put him through, over the years - drowning in remorse.

The years of my marriage and divorce, the year when we weathered Mum's cancer, brought us far closer. His love for her, knew no bounds - she was lucky to have him.

And yes, now - even though he's not in touch anymore after his recent marriage to his new wife - I still think of him as my father - the second father, I was blessed to have.

On hindsight - I wish I had matured earlier, to appreciate the love he had to give. My insecurities over my mother's attention and of people forgetting my late father - for a long time, it clouded my judgement, over the blessing that was at my disposal.

And yes, that comes with much regret. Regret, at the way I treated him. Regret, over the many "lost years". Regret over possibilities that were never attempted.

Regret, that's a little too late.

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Step-families are not perfect and usually, more than slightly uncomfortable. It's a patchwork - sometimes, you cover the gaps that are there and all things turn out well.

But sometimes, it's an awkward and painful "paste-over" - you're trying to fill gaps, where there are none - where the real parents to your stepchildren are still alive. Or worse, like in my case - dead and immortalized in memory.

You will always be a stranger outside of the family, even if you're a close one. The door to "being family", is acceptance of what is given and the space which they allow you to be what you'd like to be. And this will take time, depending on the circumstances.

Children and teenagers don't always manage this well - and who can blame them, really? It's too hard to make sense of the how's and why's of wilful adults, sometimes. And hence, they react from the place they know best - from their heart. It's honest and unconflicted - it's the last and only place where they can be, who they need to be.

Would I have the strength to go through what Bapak did? And go through the equivalent of me, when I was younger?

I honestly don't know. I know that I don't relish the thought of facing such a rejection. And maybe what I need as a parent, exceeds what I would accept as a husband.

I don't know. But I know this - if I could take back all the mean things I had said and done to Bapak in the past, I definitely would. Twice over.