It's been a little more than 2 years since then. Even longer since it all started. From the day we received the horrifying news. My father had brain tumor.
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I was 15 when we received the news. It was only a few weeks after my brother got married. I remember the crying, the agony, the tension and the intense shock that shrouded us all. But there was also a determination. My father was a strong man, he would pull through, see that he doesn't.
And he did. The first operation was a success. And my father was awake and alert within hours of the operation. We were all thrilled. Of course there's still a way to go for recovery, but we were all so giddy with joy and relief. A miracle, a hope fulfilled. My father recovered quickly. He even continued working. It was all looking good, till the tumor relapsed with a vengeance. Everything plummet downhill again.
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The second surgery too was a success, but father did not recover as fast. 2 major surgery within such a short span of time was taxing. But recovery was hopeful. However, the doctor warned us. Father needed rest. Lots and lots of it. Should it relapse another time, there would be nothing much he could do. And so we all urged my father to rest more. Treading carefully around him, careful not to anger him, doing thing for him instead. But father was an energetic man, restless in his time of rest. He couldn't keep still, he needed to work. And so my mother relented. For a year, it was the careful dance of keeping my father well rested but not restless. When it seemed that all would go well, life turned back to bite us on the rear again. Hard. A third relapse.
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This time the doctor was in despair. It was larger than before with a lot more problems arising. In the end my parents went through countless other treatments. Even going all the way to China for a month. In the end, it wasn't enough. My father was soon bed ridden, forced to lie on the bed without the energy to move anymore, unable to do anything for himself. Saying it was hard on us all will never compare to what my mother felt. She took care of him, nursed him, chatted away with my father, all the while desperately trying to find a way out, to find another treatment that would work. All in vain.
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It was slightly more than a year after my grandfather's death. That night, we all stood around my father's bed, and we all knew that it was time. The time to let go soon. We all tried to sleep, but of course we couldn't. And he finally slipped away that day, with my mother clinging on so desperately, and us siblings crying in anguish at the side. My eldest brother and his wife lock to each other for comfort, and my other brothers patting each others back. I stood at the back alone, crying. But my mind was blank, and pain in my heart unbearable. Father was gone, and there was nothing I could do to bring him back.
Again, I found myself in the same process as did my grandfather's passing before this. This time however, that 5 days were hell. While my grandfather had ignored me most of the time, my father loved me dearly, which made it that much harder. We couldn't sleep, couldn't choke down the food laid before us. My family all had that haunted. bloodshot eyes. But I stopped crying. For my mother's sake, who can barely hold it together, I had to be strong for her, and be her rock to hold on to. But on that final day, before closing his coffin, tears slid down without a stop, even as I desperately tried to hold back. Everyone was crying in earnest, none of us able to say our farewells, as the cover was nailed shut.
As was with my grandfather the previous year, it was bright and sunny. And I watched, shovel after shovel of dirt being thrown in. Tears were still flowing freely down, but I quickly wiped them away. Father would never want us to be like this. And so I pulled myself together. As we all walked away, I lingered behind and turn back. I said silent message to dad, "Watch, and I promise I'll try to make you proud."
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It's been 2 years since then. 2 years to gather my courage and write this. And I still miss him, my father. He was a great man. Passionate, dedicated, caring and understanding. He was strong and energetic, always playing badminton and golf. Running marathons and hiking. More than that, he loved us all. It's so hard to think that a strong man like father would be gone just like that, with still so much to live for. Till today, I wish I had done more. Spend more time with him. Bring in better report cards. Buying him surprises, or even just chatting with him about my day. Something, anything at all as long as it was something. But time that has gone will never come back, and all that remains is regret. As to whether I made my father proud, I'm not sure. I'm sure there are times where he'll be deeply disappointed, but I still hope that I've made him proud as well.
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Dear papa,
If you're reading this from behind my back, are you smiling? Have I done you proud? I will never know. But papa, I miss you, and so do the rest of us. Please take care of mommy from above. Mommy misses you like crazy. She still cries every now and then, and we all know it. She's working now, where you were working all these years. And she's so burnt out. My brothers are all so tired as well. Please watch over them all. I love you.
Your Daughter,
Mei Mei
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