a better place
my father was an incredible human being. from growing up a poor, country boy in china to being an american (senior) citizen. not many people can claim something like that. but my father could. he was always telling us, my sister and i, that we should make good use of this opportunity (of being educated in the US) because we did not have the condition to be in the united states. that's the word he used, condition. well the cantonese version of that word anyway. a better word would probably be qualifications.
similar to the way he lived, my father passed away early sunday morning (around 2am) at grantham hospital in hong kong with very little fanfare. he lasted as long as he did because he didn't want to leave his family behind. he had so much love for us that he was willing to endure days of pain just to be with us a little while longer. i guess he couldn't bear to see us suffer at the end, so he left us in the middle of the night.
he was a very principled man -- a trait that i haven't come close to mirroring in my almost thirty years of existence. my father and i are two very different individuals. as much as he tried to converge our personalities, or more precisely, get me to be like him, the further away i pushed. i've given up being what my father wanted me to be at a very early age, but somehow, he maintained an influence in many of my decisions. i don't know how much that disappointed him, but i think in the last couple of years, he was quite proud of the fact that i went to get my masters degree.
as a parent, he was definitely strict; most of my old friends can attest to that fact. he knew the importance of an education, but he only saw the significance of book learning. he didn't understand how extra curricular activities can help a person become successful later in life. the irony is that i decided to get my masters in education only to discover the the importance of outside-the-classroom learning.
certainly there were happier times. mostly in the pre-america era, circa 1983. i recalled the time i was recovering from a bout of childhood nephrotic syndrome, i would make my father take copious notes from a cooking show that would air when i wake up from my afternoon naps. and he would do it too. i would sit by his side and watch him write down all the ingredients and instructions of each particular dish.
speaking of the illness, i'm thankful that my father was such a strict individual because if it wasn't for him and his insistance that i kept my diet of bland food (no salt), i would have ended up with diabetes. my mom recalled how a kid in the bed next to me complained about the food so his mother made him some corn kernel soup. and yep, that kid later developed diabetes.
funny store from that, i ended up convalescing in a relative's brothel in kowloon. yep, one of my mother's aunt owned a brothel. come to think about it, i was touched by hookers.
i know he was pretty miserable the past four months because he's such a proud person and hated being dependent on the kindness of others. i'll spare you the details, but i kept thinking in my mind that if ever i get to the same stage in my life, i don't know if dying isn't such a good option. towards the end, he was basically moving from one hospital to another. i know he really missed hanging out at starbucks, walking around the ifc, and just getting round by himself.
so rest in peace, dad. i love you. and don't worry too much about me (even though i know that you will). i think i ended up alright.
i'm going to bring him back (he's getting cremated here in hk) and inter his ashes at rose hills cemetery. that's what he wanted, to go back to the states.
i've always love this poem by w. h. auden: two songs for heidli anderson
I.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
II.
O the valley in the summer where I and my John
Beside the deep river would walk on and on
While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above
Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love,
And I leaned on his shoulder; 'O Johnny, let's play':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall
When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball,
The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud
And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud;
'Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let's dance till it's day':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera
When music poured out of each wonderful star?
Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down
Over each silver and golden silk gown;
'O John I'm in heaven,' I whispered to say:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O but he was fair as a garden in flower,
As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower,
When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade
O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart;
'O marry me, Johnny, I'll love and obey':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover,
You'd the sun on one arm and the moon on the other,
The sea it was blue and the grass it was green,
Every star rattled a round tambourine;
Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay:
But you frowned like thunder and you went away.
or this one by paul monette: no goodbyes
for hours at the end I kissed your temple stroked
your hair and sniffed it it smelled so clean we'd
washed it Saturday night when the fever broke
as if there was always the perfect thing to do
to be alive for years I'd breathe your hair
when I came to bed late it was such pure you
why I nuzzle your brush every morning because
you're in there just like the dog the night
we unpacked the hospital bag and he skipped
and whimpered when Dad put on the red
sweater Cover my bald spot will you
you'd say and tilt your head like a parrot
so I could fix you up always always
till this one night when I was reduced to
I love you little friend here I am my
sweetest pea over and over spending all our
endearments like stray coins at a border
but wouldn't cry then no choked it because
they all said hearing was the last to go
the ear is like a wolf's till the very end
straining to hear a whole forest and I
wanted you loping off whatever you could
still dream to the sound of me at 3 P.M.
you were stable still our favorite word
at 4 you took the turn WAIT WAIT I AM
THE SENTRY HERE nothing passes as long as
I'm where I am we go on death is
a lonely hole two can leap it or else
or else there is nothing this man is mine
he's an ancient Greek like me I do
all the negotiating while he does battle
we are war and peace in a single bed
we wear the same size shirt it can't it can't
be yet not this just let me brush his hair
it's only Tuesday there's chicken in the fridge
from Sunday night he ate he slept oh why
don't all these kisses rouse you I won't won't
say it all I will say is goodnight patting
a few last strands in place you're covered now
my darling one last graze in the meadow
of you and please let your final dream be
a man not quite your size losing the whole
world but still here combing combing
singing your secret names till the night's gone
similar to the way he lived, my father passed away early sunday morning (around 2am) at grantham hospital in hong kong with very little fanfare. he lasted as long as he did because he didn't want to leave his family behind. he had so much love for us that he was willing to endure days of pain just to be with us a little while longer. i guess he couldn't bear to see us suffer at the end, so he left us in the middle of the night.
he was a very principled man -- a trait that i haven't come close to mirroring in my almost thirty years of existence. my father and i are two very different individuals. as much as he tried to converge our personalities, or more precisely, get me to be like him, the further away i pushed. i've given up being what my father wanted me to be at a very early age, but somehow, he maintained an influence in many of my decisions. i don't know how much that disappointed him, but i think in the last couple of years, he was quite proud of the fact that i went to get my masters degree.
as a parent, he was definitely strict; most of my old friends can attest to that fact. he knew the importance of an education, but he only saw the significance of book learning. he didn't understand how extra curricular activities can help a person become successful later in life. the irony is that i decided to get my masters in education only to discover the the importance of outside-the-classroom learning.
certainly there were happier times. mostly in the pre-america era, circa 1983. i recalled the time i was recovering from a bout of childhood nephrotic syndrome, i would make my father take copious notes from a cooking show that would air when i wake up from my afternoon naps. and he would do it too. i would sit by his side and watch him write down all the ingredients and instructions of each particular dish.
speaking of the illness, i'm thankful that my father was such a strict individual because if it wasn't for him and his insistance that i kept my diet of bland food (no salt), i would have ended up with diabetes. my mom recalled how a kid in the bed next to me complained about the food so his mother made him some corn kernel soup. and yep, that kid later developed diabetes.
funny store from that, i ended up convalescing in a relative's brothel in kowloon. yep, one of my mother's aunt owned a brothel. come to think about it, i was touched by hookers.
i know he was pretty miserable the past four months because he's such a proud person and hated being dependent on the kindness of others. i'll spare you the details, but i kept thinking in my mind that if ever i get to the same stage in my life, i don't know if dying isn't such a good option. towards the end, he was basically moving from one hospital to another. i know he really missed hanging out at starbucks, walking around the ifc, and just getting round by himself.
so rest in peace, dad. i love you. and don't worry too much about me (even though i know that you will). i think i ended up alright.
i'm going to bring him back (he's getting cremated here in hk) and inter his ashes at rose hills cemetery. that's what he wanted, to go back to the states.
i've always love this poem by w. h. auden: two songs for heidli anderson
I.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
II.
O the valley in the summer where I and my John
Beside the deep river would walk on and on
While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above
Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love,
And I leaned on his shoulder; 'O Johnny, let's play':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall
When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball,
The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud
And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud;
'Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let's dance till it's day':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera
When music poured out of each wonderful star?
Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down
Over each silver and golden silk gown;
'O John I'm in heaven,' I whispered to say:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O but he was fair as a garden in flower,
As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower,
When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade
O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart;
'O marry me, Johnny, I'll love and obey':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover,
You'd the sun on one arm and the moon on the other,
The sea it was blue and the grass it was green,
Every star rattled a round tambourine;
Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay:
But you frowned like thunder and you went away.
or this one by paul monette: no goodbyes
for hours at the end I kissed your temple stroked
your hair and sniffed it it smelled so clean we'd
washed it Saturday night when the fever broke
as if there was always the perfect thing to do
to be alive for years I'd breathe your hair
when I came to bed late it was such pure you
why I nuzzle your brush every morning because
you're in there just like the dog the night
we unpacked the hospital bag and he skipped
and whimpered when Dad put on the red
sweater Cover my bald spot will you
you'd say and tilt your head like a parrot
so I could fix you up always always
till this one night when I was reduced to
I love you little friend here I am my
sweetest pea over and over spending all our
endearments like stray coins at a border
but wouldn't cry then no choked it because
they all said hearing was the last to go
the ear is like a wolf's till the very end
straining to hear a whole forest and I
wanted you loping off whatever you could
still dream to the sound of me at 3 P.M.
you were stable still our favorite word
at 4 you took the turn WAIT WAIT I AM
THE SENTRY HERE nothing passes as long as
I'm where I am we go on death is
a lonely hole two can leap it or else
or else there is nothing this man is mine
he's an ancient Greek like me I do
all the negotiating while he does battle
we are war and peace in a single bed
we wear the same size shirt it can't it can't
be yet not this just let me brush his hair
it's only Tuesday there's chicken in the fridge
from Sunday night he ate he slept oh why
don't all these kisses rouse you I won't won't
say it all I will say is goodnight patting
a few last strands in place you're covered now
my darling one last graze in the meadow
of you and please let your final dream be
a man not quite your size losing the whole
world but still here combing combing
singing your secret names till the night's gone
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