Goodbye Dad

This past Sunday, my dad passed away. Although not altogether unexpected, it still came as a bit of a surprise. Over the past few years, he has struggled greatly through a myriad number of health issues, many of which I did not disclose. It’s been painful witnessing such a vibrant spirit decline, such a strong voice slowly muffled. I feel at peace knowing that he is finally at peace, that he doesn’t need to struggle anymore. However, a loss is a loss. There is now a void in my life, an emptiness that will never be filled. I know all too well what is to come. The initial shock. The necessity for cold, uncompromising logic in order to stay organized, to handle the business of death. That logic, a temporary mask for your emotions. Survival mode. War footing. And then, a numbness. When there is nothing left to organize, nothing left to do, there is only one thing. Grief. It’s a pretty simple word. One syllable. Its simplicity belies so much depth. There is no time limit, no end. It just is. And it will continue forever, as long as you live. An albatross around your neck, around your life, if you let it. But a powerful source of strength if you can harness it.

In considering grief, I have to first consider life. I have to celebrate a life that, for much of my life, conflicted me. To say that my father and I struggled would be an understatement. For many years I wondered why it was so hard for us. I wondered why he couldn’t love me the way that I wanted to be loved. Why wasn’t I enough? There was a period of time that I carried on my own silent crusade against him. I tried to erase him. It was easier that way. And it worked, for a while. It gave me a momentary reprieve. But, as is the case with all problems, you can’t run from them forever.  I finally came to the realization that I could never erase him. That that was a childish sentiment perpetrated by a child in pain. By someone that was trying to make sense of a situation that was far more complicated than they could comprehend. I realized that I was a flawed being, trying to connect with a flawed being. That I had to meet him half-way and I had to forgive him. Not for him, but for me. From that moment, I had to leave the past in the past or I would never be able to move forward. We made a pact to move forward. To not hold anything against one another. To slowly rebuild. And then my mom passed away.

It was a watershed moment in my life. I was different afterwards. I had no choice but to be different. I became an adult that day. And I learned that life is really short. Life is too short for conflict, too short for strife. It cast my relationship with my father in a new light. It was a catalyst for a renewal in our bond. While I firmly believe that he always appreciated me, albeit from afar at times, I had never really appreciated him. I never appreciated his great generosity for those that he loved and anyone that needed help. I never appreciated his wit and his humor. He lit up every room that he entered. He was the life of every party and he loved to dance. Although they were divorced far longer than they were married, he never spoke poorly of my mother or grandmother within my presence. I finally saw why I could not erase him. He was an indelible part of me. A part of me that I was proud to cultivate. I never thought that I would truly be at peace with my relationship with him, but I’m happy to say that I am. I’m at peace with the struggle that we had. It was important to making me the blasian that I am today.

Although all of the people that raised me have now passed on, I don’t feel alone. I am filled with their love and their teachings and a lot of gratitude for really wonderful memories. I only grieve them because I loved them. Grief is the sacrifice of love. And I wouldn’t trade that love for anything. So, I’m going to lean into the grief. I’m going to allow it to fuel me and strengthen me. I’m going to embrace it as a companion on this journey that I am most grateful for.

To Neville Chung, Patricia Chase, and Lucille Grant, keep watching over me. I hope to keep making you proud.