Some may recall that I left Japan due to concerns of my father's health at the time. He had cancer (again), and had a severe stroke not long before. It seemed that it was time for him to cast aside his mortal coil and leave this Earth. However, Fate had other plans in mind, thankfully.
That was back in 2009, a full 15 years ago. Although I miss living in Japan passionately, the opportunity to spend more time with my father over the past 15 years was well worth the cost. Now that he's gone, I realize that more than ever, before it's an opportunity that will never come again under any circumstance.
That's a hard pill to swallow.
When you're young, you just assume your parents will be there forever. It never occurs to you that some day they will be gone. Perhaps the first inkling you get is when your grandparents start to pass away. But at least for me at the time, it never really hit home. When my father was ill with cancer, although intellectually I knew that he might be gone soon, the primary focus was to help take care of the family, meaning mostly my parents. Since he got better, the truth that the end was coming some day remained a distant threat, temporarily neutered by modern medicine. Sadly, each day said truth approached just a little more, until now, the truth is upon us. Dad is no more.
We have certain things that he had and other things that he made. Most importantly, we have the memories of him and the things he said and did. He was a quiet and reserved man, and he loved his family dearly, especially his wife, my mother. I see now that a lot of the choices he made were not for his benefit, but for the sake of Mom. He's known that the day has been coming for some time, and he's been doing his best to lay the foundation for life without him. Although we disagreed about many a thing, it turns out that he was a quietly thoughtful man who did his best with the tools and resources at hand. Although I still disagree with him on a number of issues, I recognize that I still, even after his passing, have a lot to learn from him.
Life is somehow a little emptier without my father. I miss talking with him and visiting him. I miss trying to figure out ways to make him happy in his final years. Imagine how my mother must feel. Oh, Dad, we miss you.
That was back in 2009, a full 15 years ago. Although I miss living in Japan passionately, the opportunity to spend more time with my father over the past 15 years was well worth the cost. Now that he's gone, I realize that more than ever, before it's an opportunity that will never come again under any circumstance.
That's a hard pill to swallow.
When you're young, you just assume your parents will be there forever. It never occurs to you that some day they will be gone. Perhaps the first inkling you get is when your grandparents start to pass away. But at least for me at the time, it never really hit home. When my father was ill with cancer, although intellectually I knew that he might be gone soon, the primary focus was to help take care of the family, meaning mostly my parents. Since he got better, the truth that the end was coming some day remained a distant threat, temporarily neutered by modern medicine. Sadly, each day said truth approached just a little more, until now, the truth is upon us. Dad is no more.
We have certain things that he had and other things that he made. Most importantly, we have the memories of him and the things he said and did. He was a quiet and reserved man, and he loved his family dearly, especially his wife, my mother. I see now that a lot of the choices he made were not for his benefit, but for the sake of Mom. He's known that the day has been coming for some time, and he's been doing his best to lay the foundation for life without him. Although we disagreed about many a thing, it turns out that he was a quietly thoughtful man who did his best with the tools and resources at hand. Although I still disagree with him on a number of issues, I recognize that I still, even after his passing, have a lot to learn from him.
Life is somehow a little emptier without my father. I miss talking with him and visiting him. I miss trying to figure out ways to make him happy in his final years. Imagine how my mother must feel. Oh, Dad, we miss you.
