It was a tough year.

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

[7grizzly]

回複 '暖冬cool夏' 的評論 : Thank you, Summer, for reading and your generous praise. I knew writing cannot
be perfect but your kindness never failed to touch.

Looking back after one year, I realized that staying with him would've been a much better
choice. Maybe this period had to do with the tradition of mourning (or 守孝) for one to three years.

On the other hand, I read that after the Romans were slaughtered by Hannibal in
battle, the women were allowed three days and the men no time to mourn.

Good luck to you.

[暖冬cool夏]

Very touching, my friend, and so well-written!! The first few paragraphs brought tears to my eyes, and this is what an essay should be. This is PERFECT:)) (tore, consciousness) I love this one best!
I think I understand you and your dad. As to your dad, after taking care of his mom till her last breath, he should have understood what it meant to have that burden (sorry I use this word) on his shoulders. He would understand you. But being alone and lonely, it is likely that once a while he may hold a grudge. But you've made him proud. The life or the blood is carried on better and improved, isn't it?
My parents have been wishing that I could go back some day when they are really old...