Love Letters

We had my family over for dinner on Valentine's Day last weekend, in honour of Valentine's and Family Day and because I hadn't had my family over in ages. It was lovely. The arrival of the little girlie cousins turned the main floor into a mini-kindergym almost instantaneously. We had to take several trips to the basement to dust off some push/ride vehicles to ensure that each child had something to ride. And adding to the ambiance was the incessant roaring of the plasma car on our porcelain tiles as my son did the racing circuit around the kitchen/dining/living room. With the parade of vehicles following his trusty lead.

And just like old times, my Mom brought along something to cook; a 1.5 pound bass and some chicken and ginseng soup. To go perfectly with my sticky pineapple ribs and rice. But then it's always a bit of a smorgasbord when my Mom is involved.

So it was just like old times. Except it was so very different. This, sat empty:



My Dad always occupied this chair whenever he came over. It's a very cushy, comfy chair, perfectly positioned to watch CNN, the Stock Channel, TSN ... and keep a peripheral eye on the grandkids. Also perfectly positioned in the corner such that catching a wink or two while everyone else was partying wouldn't be noticed. Or so he thought.

It's been almost a month now since he's been gone. In some ways it seems like he's on a cruise, or an extended trip to the casino. It's still very surreal.

Whenever I run into people who I haven't seen since I shared the news, or if I meet others that I haven't seen in a while and I bring them up to date, I'm always told that I appear to be so strong, to be handling all this with such grace. I don't know about that. I don't know if I'm dealing with this well at all - do I seem too cheery, not sad enough, too nonchalant? Does my telling of this crazy ride seem too trite, like I've moved on and things are normal already?

Because things, well they are so not normal.

I'll cry in the shower. I'll cry while driving. I'll cry. Whenever I'm alone.

During his last days, all of those closest to him got to spend alone time with him. We came pretty close to losing him so many times in a period of a few weeks before he finally succumbed. But he considered it a blessing that he had the opportunity to say what he wanted to say ... and I tried to take that opportunity to say everything I wanted to say too. Truth be told, I said a lot of it to him while he was asleep in the hospital room, through my heart as I couldn't talk without breaking down in front of him.

The one thing that Dad really wanted was to watch his grandchildren grow. Besides my mom, they were who he was really fighting for. They are so young still, his grandchildren. My boy, his first grandchild, he will certainly remember. But my little G, while she talks about her Gong-Gong now, and she knows he's not here with us anymore, she knows he's in heaven playing with all the good guys (is he with Elvis, Mommy?) ... but these things will fade. The baby girls, unfortunately, won't know him.

But they'll all have a piece of him.

About a week before Dad passed, although very winded and experiencing difficulty breathing let alone talking, he dictated four letters to my sister. One letter for each grandchild, a special message from their loving Grandpa.

And on Valentine's Day this year, my sister gave my kids their letters. It was a happy but bitterweet and emotional evening.

So indeed he was here with us last weekend. In his words, he reminded us that he's in our minds and in our hearts. Where he will always be.

And on that note, I'm off to cry again.

A Tribute to the most wonderful man

Dad passed peacefully in his sleep last Thursday. Because of Chinese New Year, we had to make speedy arrangements. But despite the haste, there was a huge turnout to the visitation and funeral. He would have been happy to have seen the banquet that took place in his honour. In fact, as one of his oldest friends said, he was likely enjoying a beer, watching over us while we feasted.

I struggled with whether or not to say anything at the mass. I was afraid I would lose it, become too overwraught with emotion to get out the important words. How do you capture in but a few paragraphs, the special man he was and the impact that he made on so many people?

But I felt I really had to, and I'm so glad I did. And I'd like to think I did him proud...

*****

I have the extreme honour of being the daughter of WMG. Not only was he a wonderful father and remarkable grandfather, he was an exceptional man.

From humble beginnings in China, as a very young boy he came over with his mother to join his father and brother in Canada, for a better life. They settled in Montreal. As far as he remembered, he was the youngest Chinese boy in Chinatown so most adults in the small Chinese community knew him. He was also the oldest boy in kindergarten, but he didn't mind the attention that the teacher paid to him.

He caught up quickly; he finished high school at the appropriate age, and then completed his degree in engineering at McGill university. He worked all through school in the family restaurant business, to help support the family. In the meantime, he also managed to court and marry a pretty young nurse. Dad was good at multi-tasking. All the while he took care of his mother and young sister; and became a much respected uncle to the growing number of nieces and nephews. And then with Mom, he started his own family.

He had a long and distinguished career at MB where he made many friends. And then he along with Mom worked very hard in a second career in real estate. He continued to make so many new friends throughout his life, as we have seen from the outpouring over the last couple of days. For although he was a quiet man, he had a wicked sense of humour and loved a good party.

To quote a message from our cousin who recently visited Dad:

“Your Dad is loved by all of us and we were brought up by our parents to respect him and to consider him as our role model and mentor growing up. My Dad was very proud of him and his achievements. He is a bright, intelligent, successful, righteous and honorable man with strong family values and is at the same time very humble. “

My father was a wise man of impeccable morals. I learned so much from him, about being responsible, honorable, tenacious, ambitious and generous. He was an inspiration and led by example, encouraging us to be the very best that we could be. Because indeed, that’s who he was.

The very, very best.

*****

I love you Dad. I miss you.

Weekly Winners - Message for Grandpa

Not many this week.

We've brought my son to see his Grandpa several times in hospital in the last month and he's been okay with it so far. This past week, he was a bit reluctant because it's hard for him to see his Grandpa in this state. And to be honest, it's hard for all of us to see Dad this sick.

But on Friday, he wanted to see him, he missed him, and he knew that his Grandpa would be overjoyed to see him. And his Grandpa was. Over the moon.

My boy was so glad that he visited, even just to sit and smile at his Grandpa. It made both of them feel better.

My daughter, having just turned 4, has not done well at the hospital. She's scared, and it's only natural. She only likes seeing her Grandpa in the natural setting, at his home. So we don't bring her to the hospital anymore, but instead, she makes cards for him.

The one she made yesterday had the above photos in it, with the following message:
"Get better Gong-Gong" (Chinese for Grandpa). "I love you".

He couldn't say much, he was too breathless, but he did whisper that he couldn't believe what a big girl she looks in these shots. He kept opening up the card, closing it, opening it ... as if to memorize its contents. It made him smile.

*****

Be sure to visit other winners, at the home of the lovely hostess with the mostest LOTUS.

Days

Whatever the hell that means.

"I want the truth. "

"You can't handle the truth!!!".

These voices are screaming in my head.

The other words, so many words, are piling one on top of each other, trying to jockey for space in my tangled, exhausted mind.

I've been on emotional rollers coasters before, and even though there was a feeling of futility at times, at least there was a modicum of control. This time, we are spinning. A nightmare from which we wish we could wake up.

But we can't. We're living it.

Where did the real posts go?

They're on hiatus, unfortunately. I just don't have it in me.

Happy pictures of my happy kids are helping.

I'm tired, but not nearly as exhausted as others in my family.

I alternate from being numb, to borderline breakdown, to stern resolve within a matter of minutes... all the while with an aching heart, heavy in my chest, and a scream nestled uncomfortably as a whisper in the depths of my throat.

But I have to get past that. It's not about me.

I try to maintain positive thoughts, put on a cheerful face, as they need to see it. We all need to see it. We all need to feel it.

Hope. Strength.

To fight it.