And then there were three....
Written on April 2, 2005
Dad passed away quietly Friday night (April 1, 2005). 10 days ago, he had told my mom to stop feeding him. I think he was tired of living. He had already surpassed the living expectations of all his doctors, all his friends and colleagues, even his family. My dad was a proud man. If he was gonna go, it was going to be on HIS terms, no one else's. At the end, he was so diminished, skin and bone. His eyes had stopped focusing on us long ago. I like to think that he was looking past us, beyond this world, and seeing his parents and siblings waiting patiently for him, his friends warming up for a round of golf. Perhaps harking back to healthier and happier times in his life.
Now that it has finally happened, I find that I'm rather numb and decidedly depressed. Tears have flowed, but the dam hasn't burst. Mom and I were busy all day with the arrangements for his funeral. Right now, all of us are just relieved that he doesn't have to struggle anymore. Gone are the connections to machines, giving him food, moistening his throat, sucking away phlegm, administering meds. Now, he's in a place of eternal tee times, playing mah jjong with his friends, talking, laughing, singing and playing his keyboard, eating his insanely spicy peppers, relishing his food. He is full bodied and a picture of health. My mom jokes that he'll be the Vietnamese Tiger Woods in heaven.
Dad? Tee up. I love you and miss you always.
For those wondering on the lateness of this entry, it's because I wanted to tell Shine in person, not have him learn of my Dad's passing through lj or an email. Now that he's back, here's the entry. Thank you for all the support and prayers over the past year.
Thanks everyone once again for all the condolences. You guys rock.
Dad passed away quietly Friday night (April 1, 2005). 10 days ago, he had told my mom to stop feeding him. I think he was tired of living. He had already surpassed the living expectations of all his doctors, all his friends and colleagues, even his family. My dad was a proud man. If he was gonna go, it was going to be on HIS terms, no one else's. At the end, he was so diminished, skin and bone. His eyes had stopped focusing on us long ago. I like to think that he was looking past us, beyond this world, and seeing his parents and siblings waiting patiently for him, his friends warming up for a round of golf. Perhaps harking back to healthier and happier times in his life.
Now that it has finally happened, I find that I'm rather numb and decidedly depressed. Tears have flowed, but the dam hasn't burst. Mom and I were busy all day with the arrangements for his funeral. Right now, all of us are just relieved that he doesn't have to struggle anymore. Gone are the connections to machines, giving him food, moistening his throat, sucking away phlegm, administering meds. Now, he's in a place of eternal tee times, playing mah jjong with his friends, talking, laughing, singing and playing his keyboard, eating his insanely spicy peppers, relishing his food. He is full bodied and a picture of health. My mom jokes that he'll be the Vietnamese Tiger Woods in heaven.
Dad? Tee up. I love you and miss you always.
For those wondering on the lateness of this entry, it's because I wanted to tell Shine in person, not have him learn of my Dad's passing through lj or an email. Now that he's back, here's the entry. Thank you for all the support and prayers over the past year.
Thanks everyone once again for all the condolences. You guys rock.