In Memory of a Dad, who had given his all ... (Part 2)

My life in Canada began on March 6, 1990. I was twenty-six years old at the time.  陳慧嫻的千千闕歌 was the song that I liked to hum to myself. I was just then a simple soul. Believe in my course was all I know, and all I asked myself to focus.
  
I didn't have those "may be one day" big dreams of what Canada might have in store for me. I simply enjoyed my day-in, day-out courtship with this new country. Time that I wasn't working, I was in the company of Sam, my partner for life. Things for the most part was rosy indeed. But deep down, I have a hole left to be mended. The fact that my Dad passed away on the very day I was about to start a new life in Canada remained a sore place I dreaded to tread. 


But "when God closes a door,  He opens a window for you." So one day, I thought of this image of "curtain call" --- when individuals return to the stage to be recognized by the audience for their performance. "Hey, Dad, you stepped off your stage all right. I can continue to celebrate your great performance by keeping my memory of you alive, by living my life by your values,  and by giving you a big round of applause from the bottom of my heart." So here it goes, Part 2.

Part 2

"My Dad, always wore a smile on his face, whether it was the first thing in the morning before he got fully recouped from yesterday’s toil, or the last thing at night before he gladly looked forward to the comfort of his bed for he knew he had done his best for his family a day at a time. My Dad had a mild temperament. He put his spirit and strength in his family front and centre. Of course, I wouldn’t have realized it then, but now I could easily sympathize with him that the parental load (me being a part of it) and the family welfare had overshadowed his wants and dreams.

Thanks Dad for your unconditional love. With you, I felt I was the apple of your eye. I always volunteered to go on trams to the Central with you to get yarn for making sweaters. When we went out, you held my hand and I loved to hold onto your thumb. You took me to dim sum in Sheung Wan, Shanghai specialties in North Point, and my first MacDonald hamburger in Causeway Bay. I helped stocking up packs of cigarette and putting up stacks of lottery tickets in your Chung-Ying Convenience Store. When report cards came, you always put on a big grin and proudly autographed on the dotted line. You trusted me to help cutting your nails and trimming your hair. We found crushed ice-cream cups at the bottom of the freezer, with which we shared. We opened up a small bottle of soft drink and bottomed it up as fast as we could.

Dad, you had given me a blueprint of what a married man should be: put your family first. You have shown me how a good husband should behave: put your partner first. You taught me the spirit of sacrifice: put the interest of your children first. I couldn’t thank you enough for all these valuable lessons. They help me to realize that: When you’re little, happiness is a simple thing.  And when you grow up, simplicity is a happy thing. 

Dad, you were such a provider. You gave your family all you had and all you could ... sadly before I could find my own footprint in this new world, before I could tell you how naturally beautiful this province was, before I could share with you the joy of motherhood, before I could return your love: you left unannounced. From feeling terrified, confused, unease, to well adjusted and settled, it took me a good 20 years to complete the journey. Dad, I have no regrets. On the contrary and in a strange way, I felt blessed and wholesome to have seen your face last beaming on a white pillow, in anticipation of your exit into another existence.

On this 20-year milestone of your passing away, I honour your life with this article. I remember your love in the same gentle and subtle manner you delivered it.  I will continue to live life graciously the way you lived yours. I will keep my promise to watch out for Mom for you. Dad, I miss you dearly, yet sad no more."

- The End -