陳白菊 《 California Dreaming 》 美國

        We  moved  to  California  for the warm sunny weather in 1985.  As the years went by,  we  children grew up and got married but my dad  remained  a  widower.  He  spent most of the day reading and writing letters or talking to his friends on the phone.  When I  visited  him,  we  talked  about  his  grandchildren,  about  his  old  friends,  the  usual subjects,  weather  and  politics.  Neither  of  us ever said    “I  love  you”.  We  avoided meaningful conversations for we feared it would hurt both of  us.  But  deep  down,  we both wanted to be closer, yet both were afraid to make the first move.

        As he grew older,  Dad's  health  started failing.  He was in and out of the hospital a lot due to a  variety  of  chronic  illnesses.  His  memory  started  to  fail  him and he had difficulty remembering his  grandchildren's names.  He  became  agitated in the hospital, wanting to go  home.  It  was  really sad to see him this way.  I  promised  him he'd come home the minute he got better.

        His condition seemed to improve, but he still needed medical care.  We transferred him to a nursing home hoping we could bring him home as soon as he was well enough. When I saw him, I'd bring newspaper and read to him like he used to do. It was not how I wanted him to spend his last remaining years,  but  in  between  working  full time and raising a family,  it was the most logical option.  Still,  the guilt of not being able to take care of my father or spend more time with him ate away at me.

        My  father  had  sacrificed  so  much  to  bring  his  entire  family  from  Vietnam to America,  and  he  did  everything  he could to keep our big family together--a herculean task-yet here we were unable to care for him at home.

        I was shocked and in disbelief when I got a call one morning.  Dad  passed away in his sleep.  I watched him lying there,  he looked peaceful.  His  body was still warm,  his cheeks still had color.  I wanted to believe he died without pain;  yet,  it’s not comforting knowing he died alone.

        It’s been many years since his passing and I still think about him often. Strangely, I think I understand him more now than when he was alive.  A  frightened young man in a foreign country,  with no family,  and hardly any money,  all  he  knew was work to keep from being hungry and support his family. He had no time for fun. Fun was a luxury that the poor couldn’t  afford.  All  his  life,  my  father  seized opportunities for a chance at a better life,  from the minute he stepped off that boat in  Vietnam  at  the age of  17, to the day he packed up his entire family of 10  and crammed them onto a  fishing  boat.  Even though he was strict and seemed cold at times, it was through this belief of working hard that kept us all together during times of difficulty. It was this way of thinking that shaped how he raised us.

        Being a parent is not  easy.  I  learned it along the way,  just like my father did. I am luckier in that I have my brothers and my sisters to lean on.  My  father did not have that luxury when he was faced with  life’s  unexpected obstacles.  I  live in a better time;  my circumstances allow me to do more with my  life.  I  received  a  better  education  and  I didn’t have to struggle  financially like my father did.  Now  I  realize  that what we have today is what my father had wanted for us:  a better future for our family.  In turn, I want my children to have an even better life than  me.  I  find myself explaining things a lot to them; my concerns for their safety, my hope for them to be the best that they can be, and the decisions that I made.  We do not always agree,  but  I hope explanation is a bridge to understanding  the values my father imparted on us.  Let's  cross  that bridge and meet in the middle.

        P.S:  My  hope of putting these things down on paper is to help his grandchildren to understand that their grandfather was a hardworking,  generous,  and fair man.  He  took risks all for the sake of creating a better future for his family.  I  want  them to remember and honor him for his fine qualities.  Our journeys in life,  however  happy, sad, or tragic they  might be,  we  will  rise  above  our  challenges  if  we  stick  together.  Despite  the struggles,  if we fuel our hearts with tender moments – my Santa Claus,  Chị  Tư and her silly phrases,  the  memory  of  Mom and Grandma by the oil  lamp,  and  Dad’s story of impressing foreign customers-- they make us strong,  enough  to overcome any obstacles that come our way.  For  those  of you whose fathers are  still  living,  it’s not too late for you to tell him you love him. The best thing you can give him is your time, time to listen to his childhood stories, his love stories, his proud moments,  and his dreams.  Be honest with  him  about  your  feelings  and  be  ready to reconcile because it will bring peace to both of you. Learn from his experiences, because when he is no longer with you, it is his stories that will guide you through life’s challenges. And do it soon;  don’t  wait too long or it will be too late.

陳白菊 (Laura Tran)