Writing about passing of someone who’s close to you is never easy, especially when it’s your parent. I was looking for the perfect thing to say, to create the perfect moment akin to some Hollywood cliché. After spending months writing and deleting several drafts, I’ve finally accepted that there is no perfect way to say goodbye, and there is no way to encompass everything my dad meant to me with words. Structure, flow, logic, presentation, none of that is important anymore, at least not here.
Our lives as a family, has been a series of comedic, if not tragic timing. My father had, at several different points in his life, prominent career that seemed to point towards the ideal of success. He was once a manager of human resources at RCA of Taiwan, subsequently owned a very successful company with a few partners. I don’t think my father was ever a business genius of any sort, rather his rapid ascension at almost any given opportunity had more to do with his genial personality. Family might be his priority, but friends were a close second to the extent of seemingly eclipsing the first. However, that forgiving personality would prove to be his flaw as well.
I never questioned much about my father’s past, as I’ve never been a person who’s particularly interested with history. Although I’ve overheard that my father’s company eventually failed because of the misplaced trust in one of his partners, resulting in the loss of their IP and the manufacturing plant. It’s a theme that plays out in several different occassions in his life, because by nature, he trusted people until they’re proven untrustworthy.
Dad’s decision to pursue higher education in America came shortly after that. We became a long distance family, while dad pursued his degree and worked hard to eventually migrate us over to United States, mom brought us up on her own with help from various family members. Dad would come home during summer vacation, only being able to stay for two to three months a year.
During one of those summers, we went to pick up Dad from the airport. I remember searching for Dad’s old driver’s license at home the night before, because I had forgotten exactly what Dad looked like (a sort of condition that persist today, I consistently have problems remembering people’s faces). At the airport, I saw this man that vaguely resembled my dad from the driver’s license (he had shaved his mustache, which made him much harder to recognize); I walked up to him and asked, “Are you my dad?” He cracked a big smile at the time and laughed at my silliness, but even at that young age, I thought that I might have unintentionally hurt his feelings.
Dad’s feelings were important to me, although he was gone for most of the year at that point in my life, there was never a question to how much he loved us. Those summer vacations when he was home, were still some of the most memorable part of my life. There as no particular moment in those time that stood out, but it was the most normalcy that existed in our family. We went out, we went shopping, we went to restaurants, we hung out. The most simple part of life was the most treasured, and those months that we had to spend apart just made those moments we spent together even more precious. Dad would place his hand on the back of my neck when we walked down the street, his hand was rough, ridden with callus, and the most wonderful warmth for a little boy.
Dad’s plan was to move the entire family to America, but by the time he got us all green cards (a process which took years of work), my brother was already over the legal age at which males are allowed to leave the country without first serving in the army. Instead of the entire family moving over, my mom had to stay in Taiwan to take care of my brother. The choice to come to America was never forced upon me, but somehow Dad knew that I would’ve enjoyed life here, much more than the life I had in Taiwan.
Even then, the plan was still to move the entire family to America. Timing again foiled my dad’s future, as he finished his Ph.D. at a period of economic downturn with an extremely tough job market, especially tough for a man who spoke English with a heavy foreign accent in a very competitive field. We spent a year traveling & interviewing for jobs in various locations. We would find an apartment here, stay with a friend there. Dad would take trips to visit different university campuses in hopes of landing somewhere, which took anywhere between a day to a week at a time. In that single year, I went attended four different schools, and eventually Dad realized the best opportunities for him is still back in Taiwan.
For better or worse, I ended up being the only symbol of achievement for his years of struggle. Once again the choice of where to stay was left to me, and I chose to stay here. After all the plans fell through, I remained mostly intact to what Dad really wished for. Still, I did not become a doctor as he wished, but I lived a life that’s relatively well-to-do.
The funny thing about having a long distance between Dad and I, that’s probably the thing that made our love the strongest. We didn’t have much time to fight or argue, we barely had enough time to love.
Timing would be my dad’s nemesis for one last time.
As my brother was expecting the first child of this generation of our family, I had made plans to visit them after the baby was born, and spend some quality time living at my parent’s house pretending to be a twelve year old again.
Two days before my brother had his first child, our family’s first grand daughter, my father passed away.
It was sudden and without warning, as his air passageway finally collapsed from years of smoking. We knew he was having problem breathing for a while, but it was under control for the most part. One moment he was just sitting there, watching TV and relaxing with my mom. The next, he couldn’t breathe, and there was nothing we could’ve done about it. It was already too late by the time the ambulance arrived.
I guess everyone always wished that they had more time to spend with their loved ones before they pass away. There is never enough time. It just seemed even more painful because I knew exactly when I was going to book that flight to see him, and that I just spoke to him four days before wishing him happy Father’s Day*.
By rough estimation, there were anywhere between 500 to 800 people who attended Dad’s funeral. Friends, colleagues, family, and hundreds of students from current and years past. For weeks leading up the to funeral I had been calm and comforting my mother whenever possible. Despite my best effort to be the voice of reason and acceptance, I completely lost it when I had to address the crowd. I don’t know if what I said came through as anything more than a series of incomprehensible sobbing.
Up until that moment, I don’t think I’ve ever fully comprehended my dad’s accomplishment since those years when he came back to Taiwan. Seeing all those hundreds of students that all held Dad in such a high regard, realizing how Dad had influenced the lives of so many, filled me up with pride and sadness all at once. I knew at that moment, he loved them all, just as he’s always loved all his friends. They were all Dad’s surrogate family.
I had to wonder, if Dad had lived 20 more years, faded into the distant memories of these students, would they still remember him if he had passed away then?
For once, time did not forsake him. If there was the perfect way to pass through this life, Dad had picked the perfect time. He passed away gloriously, enveloped by the love of all those who will always remember him.
*:Father’s Day in Taiwan is on August 8th.
