Dad passed away on Apr 9, 2020. The next few months, I woke up every morning to
renewed guilt: I shouldn't have left him after the Chinese New Year, I should've
flown back before they canceled the 10-year visa, I should ... Never in my life
had I felt so wretched and lonely. I disappointed the 18-year-old me.
I was never an obedient son, having witnessed how dad's devotion to his selfish
mom and sister tore his own family apart. But where we differed, I wished I had
been kinder. I visited him twice a year and knew that dad bore a grudge. He took
care of grandma till her last breath at 92 and must have expected something
similar in his turn. I instead copped out half a globe away and outsourced the
job to Mr. Zhao. As the only child, I didn't do enough and I won't have a chance
now that he is gone.
"The evil that men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their
bones."* But let that fate not befall my dad.
Dad loved me in his own way. Unlike many fathers, he never laid a finger on me
for my frequent mischief. He took care of me when I was sick. For me, he once
biked across town in the rain for a piece of pork from the only butcher he could
find. (The meat was going bad, as we found out afterwards, and his quest became a
family joke.) He read me the entire Journey to the West, introduced me to Chinese
classic essays, and brought me Homer's epics. His weaknesses and worldly failures
in spite of a college education (rare at the time) spurred me on constantly for
revenge. His battered health in old age nagged me into action. I missed him.
Slowly I seemed to have clawed out of the funk or maybe the jabs of remorse had
simply sunk into a deeper conciousness.
One sunny spring morning as I walked back from the coffee shop, a thought struck
like lightning: what I can do to repent are to better myself and to pass on my
messages to the next generation. "This has to be the right answer." I said to
myself. Mom would've been proud of the idea as her life was dedicated to improving
that of her beloved son. Dad would, too.
Tim, promise me that you never stop striving to make yourself a better person,
every single day, by running a few miles, lifting some weight, or learning a new
word, etc. Don't accept any story that says otherwise. Because that's ultimately
the only thing within your control to love back. And since I have failed my dad,
you don't have to be by my side to close my eyes when I die.
* Julius Caesar, by Shakepeare
