Brothers and Sisters

This is what I see every morning after I push them out the door ...


This is what I hear from the moms whenever I pick up the girlie from kindergarten ...

"Your boy, he is so protective of your daughter."

"He doesn't let her out of his sight, he's always got an arm around her or he's holding onto her hand as she gets off the bus."

"It's amazing. She gives him a big hug at the door and he does not leave until he sees that she's inside safely with the rest of her class."

My rugrats. They know each other's weak spots and they bug each other mercilessly every chance they get.

But there's some unwritten rule there, a bond that only they know, as only siblings can "get".

He lets her hang out with him and his friends, and he only occasionally complains to me, asking for space. She'll invade his playdates and seek attention from his friends. He doesn't mind overly much. He's almost 9, and she is just 4. I think it's safe to assume that most 9 year olds would shudder at the thought of their pipsqueak younger sister getting into their territory.

Even when we get into the house, occasionally, the big brother will stop and help his little sister take off her shoes. I tell him that she's old enough to do that on her own and he responds with, "Oh, it's okay Mom. I'm here anyway, I may as well give her a hand."

What did she do to deserve this? The girlie, I must admit, has hit the sibling jackpot.

*****

My mother comes home tomorrow. She's been away for almost a month visiting with her brothers. A visit to Hong Kong that she had been hoping to take with my Dad.

Mom's been busy. Shopping, taking a few side tours to Indonesia, eating out, more shopping. No cooking, no cleaning, no laundry... and visiting friends and old classmates who she hadn't seen in over 40 years. She even picked up some extra luggage to fill with the goodies she's purchased for her beloved grandkids.

Both her brothers there have been wonderful to her. They've even given her shopping funds, too much for her to use up so she'll have extra to come home with. I think she's at the place she needs to be right now, in the company of her family. She's often talked wistfully about her big brothers, the one just older than her in particular. Such wonderful memories she has of of them watching out for her while growing up. Her brothers are now taking very good care of their little sister. In her words, she is being treated like a queen.

I've always said that little G is so much like her grandmother.

And luckily for her, the little princess, it looks like she'll also share this with Poh-Poh.

The love of a big brother, that will undoubtedly last a lifetime.

Wordless Wednesday - drinking buddies

(one of my favourite photos of all time...)

"Lucky"

Although the loss of my father has just devastated me and my siblings, it's obviously my mother who has been the most affected.

I knew my parents loved each other, I had no doubt about that. After almost 45 years of marriage, they were still very much a couple. They did everything together, went everywhere together, still held hands. But watching them the last month, dealing with my father's sudden, grave illness, it became so clear to me that with my father's passing, it wasn't only the end of a wonderful man's life. It was the end of a beautiful love story.

They were still so very much IN love.

As my brother mentioned to me recently, you often forget that your parents started out as a young couple themselves. Before they had children, they had each other. And after the kids flew the coop and grandchildren came along, they had each other still. My parents faced quite a bit of adversity trying to keep their relationship together in the early days. I've always known of the obstacles they faced from their families when they decided to marry. And yet they persevered, and built a family and a life together.

Sure, they bickered and they argued ... what couple doesn't? And my mother seldom understood the dry wit or the jokes that my father would tell at her expense (a cultural thing, perhaps ... or more likely Mom got it all along and just didn't let on). Mom wasn't too keen on some of the bad habits Dad had, but back in the day, everyone smoked, everyone drank ( Mad Men, anyone?).

During the last six weeks, my mother never left my father's side. She stayed by him in the hospital room, catching sleep on a cot next to him only an hour or two at a time, so that she would be there whenever he was awake, whenever he needed her. And whenever he awoke, he would look out for her first, before anyone else. She did everything for him; and he fought so hard for her.

I caught a glimpse of their special relationship one afternoon when I was helping out in Dad's room. Occasionally Mom would ask Dad a few questions, to make sure he was still alert or to confirm that he was awake. Holding hands, her face close to his, she asked him, "Who am I?"

To which Dad responded : "Somebody".

Mom replied: "Somebody? Somebody to who?"

Dad: "Somebody to someone. Somebody here to test me."

After a little laugh, Mom said again: "Who am I?"

Dad: "My Wife."

And Mom, with a little chuckle, threw this at him: "How many wives do you have?"

Dad deadpanned: "One.... SO FAR."

Mom just cracked right up.

And I turned my face to the wall so that they wouldn't see my tears welling up while I laughed with them.

*****

My mother is a strong woman. She realizes that this is part of the life cycle, and that she's in the next chapter of her life. We're trying to gather around her as much as we can, but she'd like us to get back to our normal lives. Whatever the new normal holds.

But one thing that I know for sure, that I have been a witness to in the last little while:

True love does exist. I've seen it with my very own eyes. I'm a product of it.

And I will be so lucky if, by the time we reach our post-40th wedding anniversary, my own marriage will still hold half of the love that my parents had for each other.
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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.

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.