In Memory of a Dad, who had given his all ... (Part 1)

Father's Day is fast approaching, Jun 17, 2012.  I want to post my Dec 28, 2010 article, In Memory of a Dad, who had given his all ... (Part 1) as my FIRST BLOG.

Dad, I'm sorry, a lot of days have gone by that you weren't front and centre in my life.

Thank-you Dad, for showering me and my family with your blessings.

Dad, I'm listening, for I want to connect up with the spirit of your being.

I am content, as I'm writing this blog in the comfort of my home.

Dad, to honour you, is to live a life of graciousness. On that note, I pledge.

*                             *                             *

Part I

"It’s been 20 years I lived in Canada and called Vancouver home. It’s been the same 20 years I lived without my Dad, not a day more, not a day less. I seldom talked about this. Perhaps now is the time, after all, it’s been 2 decades. What if I never got to pen this down, would these memories buried got so faded and thin in the light of day that they are no longer there?

It came as a total shock, something pulled off from a nightmare, something close to inconceivable... no words got through my head, and nothing meaningful stuck in my mind ... the only thing I knew for sure at the time was that this was my Mom’s voice. We were having our first long distance call. I was supposed to phone home to let her know that Sam and I landed Vancouver all right. We made it. Though we knew very little of what tomorrow will bring, we arrived in one piece, safe and sound. Mom was not hearing me either. She asked me to stay calm. She told me that Dad had passed away. She wanted me to stay put. It was surreal. I could still feel the warmth of my Dad’s palms, soft and a bit chubby, for I held them dearly less than 20 hours ago. I could vividly recall his face looked calm and content, for I had cleaned it with a warm towel the night before. 


It was not even that dark outside the windows on March 6, 1990 in Burnaby, when this phone exchange took place. In my head, Dad had health issues but he was not ill. He was sharp and clear-headed, definitely better than other times I greeted him in the care facility. Sam and I went to bid Dad farewell late night, for we were set to fly out Hong Kong the next morning. I held his hands, and he held my heart. He asked Sam to take care of me, and me to treat Sam well. He told us to watch out for one another on this foreign land. He also said his life was not an easy one, but he wished us a better one. His last words were: please remember to take care of your Mom — for a moment I was puzzled — wasn’t Mom and I were supposed to be further apart by tomorrow when I set foot on Canada? Of course, it all makes sense years later, but who would have known at the time.

I didn’t remember when and how we wrapped up our phone conversation. The sun rose the next day. The cherry blossoms bloomed earlier than usual that March. I could hear the birds singing by the water at Deer Lake by the summer. My head was rid of the episode on one hand, and the new life consumed my being on the other. I thought I could survive the loss, if I didn’t allow the grief to get up-close. It worked. It was all well until ... until a night when Sam and I had a date with friends to try out French cuisine in downtown after work. Somehow we got lost in one of the heaviest downpour we experienced in Vancouver up to that point. I wasn’t afraid that we got lost. I didn’t feel particularly concerned that we would be more than fashionably late, or as it turned out to be the ever embarrassing no-show. Yet all of a sudden, the world inside me collapsed, I felt miserable. My tears kept running down uncontrollably. I was not listening. No words of comfort came through my head. A recent movie, “Rabbit Hole”, had scenes that reminded me how chaotic my mind was at the time. I was half a lunatic. I’m fond of imagining myself as a butterfly— “I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way.” But at that very moment, I was exhausted. I wanted to fly no more. The rain continued to pound on the Honda hatchback ... my world retreated into a dark corner of the stairs where and when I got threw out of the flat once by my Mom for an incident I truly couldn’t recall. I was just as heartbreaking on those icy steps as a lonely girl, as I was behind the misty windshield of the Honda as a stubborn grown woman. Time froze ... a light bulb flashed ... it dawned on me that my Dad wouldn’t and couldn’t come to my rescue this time, as he used to. I have to save myself from this mess. I have to calm my seas of emotions. For as willing as he might have, he could only exist and be there for me by my own admission. I slept like a baby that night for I’ve found a way to get close to him again ... He was always there for me. I just have to open up and let him in."

 <<To be cotinued>>