Oh Father
Oh Father, you never wanted to live that wayMy sister called me in a total panic early today, rousing me from my slumber. Apparently my Father suffered a mild stroke last night and was in the hospital this morning. She was ready to leave the office and fly to his bedside. I felt surprisingly calm (numb?). I heard the worry in her voice and was glad that of the two of us she was Daddy's Girl. He had cried (cried!) at her wedding. I remember wondering whether he would cry at mine. I wondered now who would give me away when it was my turn if he died.
you never wanted to hurt me
Why am I running away?
Maybe someday
When I look back I'll be able to say
You didn't mean to be cruel
Somebody hurt you too
My Father's back home, alright for the time being. Regained his speech and mobility. He has followup tests scheduled over the next few days. I went over to see him at lunchtime.
"Hi, Dad. What happened?"
"I almost died last night."
I looked at the frail, grey, old man lying in bed. How could I have been so afraid of this man growing up? He may be old but he's still a firecracker, I reminded myself. I guess I'm still wary. Still angry. But I'm trying. I'll never forget but I'm trying hard to forgive. With time my hardened heart has softened.
I laid a hand on his arm. The only form of touch between us in about two decades. As usual, it felt unnatural but I didn't pull away.
"Well...you're still young. Don't die on me just yet..." He was amused.
It was wierd...In my mind I couldn't equate the man in front of me to the man I knew. How did he age so much while I wasn't looking? What was he like as a young man? He actually started to tell me stories of his youth and he has written a few short stories in our native tongue. I get my love of writing from him. We talk more now than ever before. Ironically I find it easier to talk to him than my mother. But we never talk about the pain of our past. I'm too much of a coward. It's difficult to think that I'll have to say goodbye to him someday, maybe soon. I know I'll cry then, shedding bitter tears for all the things I could never say, all the questions for which there'll be no answers.
posted by Cat @ 4:00 PM
8 Comments:
Sorry about the news. Sounds like you have a fair amount of issues to deal with about your father. Perhaps now would be a good time to address them?..
Thanks, guys. I hear ya but it's so much harder than it looks. We don't easily "talk" to our parents in my community. Ours is more of a tradition of repression and resentment :)
Repression and resentment? Somehow, I like the sound of that. So much potential for emotions to fester indefinitely only to resurface unexpectedly later in life in various terrifying forms! ;-)
Hey, thanks for adding me to your friends list! :)
Is it just me? I thought most families operated on this principle, but asian ones in particular.
Yeah I think it's pretty wide spread across most cultures. Some being more repressed than others I guess...
As you may or may not know, I totally understand. I too had unresolved issues before my dad passed, more specifically, we never exchanged anything deep or real; like you said, there was "repression and resentment" and day-to-day trivialties. Even though he is gone now, I know that he wasn't the kind of man who could relate to his kids on that touchy-feely level b/c he was one of those stoic, old school Asian men. So I don't beat myself up over not having emotionally connected to him the way I wish I could.
Suggestion - maybe slowly build up your rapport. Just chat with him on little things semi-regularly. It will be a matter of time before you both become more comfortable in front of each other to talk about the more serious stuff.
Thx, YG. I've definitely connected more on an emotional level with my dad over the last 4 years but especially in the last year. The problem is that it's MORE difficult to talk about how much he has hurt the family now that we're getting along. It was easier back when I hated him and could talk to him coldly about it. Now I feel shy and embarrassed...
cat, that's a good start. keep it up.
At least that's better then myself, I have nothing in common to talk with my dad.
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