Barbie dolls and doll dresses

          Many people have asked me: Why did you buy a barbie doll right before your 20th birthday? I know. Seems ridiculous. I haven't played with dolls since I was 10. And it is very very much because of my father.

          When I was about 7 or 8, my dad taught me how to sew. He was constantly buying me barbie dolls and dollhouses, and he told me stories of when my aunt was a girl, He would tell me about how they had no money to buy doll clothes, and how creative my aunt was, so he taught her how to sew. And she stole clothes from people and cut holes out of them to make clothes, specifically a pair of my dad's jeans.

          This just reminds me so much of the kind of person my dad is. He never thought, oh, I can afford to buy doll clothes now, there's no need to make it by hand. Because it really isn't about the doll clothes is it? I mean, let's face it, they were incredibly ugly. It was the process. The bonding as father and daughter. And the lifelong skill he taught me. None of my other siblings know how to sew, and it is a terrible inconvenience. Sewing on a loose button, mending a ripped seam, it's an incredibly useful skill.

          When my dad was very very sick, I ordered a barbie doll and some sewing materials, thinking I could start making doll clothes again and show him the things I made with the skills he taught me. Deep and metaphorical, I know. But luck is cruel, as it happens. My parcels arrived on his funeral. What a shock, and what a blow to my emotions. As if I didn't already have enough regrets.

          I am not unfazed by my father's death, how could I be? I'm just not the type of person who shows emotions so freely, as many people do. And it does bother me that many of my relatives think I do not love my father or appreciate my father, just because I couldn't find anything to say to him in his deathbed. It bothers me a great deal, considering I am definitely the only child to ever really consider my dad's feelings on most anything.

          He and I are very much alike. A little too much alike, even. He was incredibly stubborn, as am I, and many people have urged me to curb my stubbornness, but... It would feel like I would be less like my dad. I would never ever want to be less like my dad. If I could, I'd be a carbon copy of him. I want my life to go the way that his did. Marry someone better looking than me, earn more money than my spouse, have 4 children, live in a big house that I bought myself, and be a great parent. It's my life long dream. The ultimate life goal.

          I like to think he's in heaven somewhere and he sees what we're doing (not how taoist heaven works but honestly, it's made up anyway, I'd like it to be my way) and he'd be able to read what we write, hear what we say. I hope that I'll get to be in heaven some day and he'll tell me how proud he is of me. And I'd be able to tell him how much of it was because of him.