After a night of frustration, mainly at the stupid UNSW medicine entry form. I’m here to offer another life changing story from my mysterious past.
Firstly about the UNSW thing. I found out that after typing in ALL your information into text boxes and accidentally highlighting parts of the page and pressing backspace doesn’t delete the word you highlight but rather it takes you to the page before, and deletes all the information you just typed in the last hour.
How frustrating. Hopefully this story will make me feel better.
My second story is another from my childhood, another memorable one that means quite a lot to me.I dedicate this to my father.
The scene is set in 1996. My family has now moved out of our apartment in Berala, and we moved into a quaint 3 bedroom townhouse in Dundas. Funny how 2 years can make so much difference. We lived in relative luxury, my parents having never owned anything larger than an apartment and me, finally having enough room to run; up stairs and across large hallways.
I remember in the end of winter, for the first time in my young lifetime of a mere 5 years, I was faced with the loss of a family member. My Grandfather had passed away in Hong Kong. Admittedly I do not remember him all that well, but even today when I see photos of the handsome smiling man in his 40′s in my dad’s photograph cabinet I can’t help but think of the times he had rocked and cradled me as a baby.
The loss hit my dad infinitely harder than it would ever hit me. He took an express flight the day after hearing the news, a grim expression on his face as he bundled me up and kissed me goodbye that morning.
In hindsight, the courage and bravery it must have taken to act as a father although his own father was no longer with him makes me tingle with pride mingled with sadness.
Back then I did not understand grief and what had happened. I was not unhappy for my grandfather at the time because of the euphemisms used, but I was upset that my father was leaving. I could not believe that he was going somewhere without me, I had never been without either mum or dad for more than a span of 6 hours.
To be honest, I was afraid that he would leave me, forever. I was afraid I would never see him again.
That ball of emotion I felt welling in my throat as I watched my father walk out the door will remain with me forever.
2 weeks passed, I remained upset. My mother consoled me with tight hugs and constant meals, to take my mind off my father. But the only thing that gave me hope was the sound of his voice. He only called twice in his visit but I savoured every second.
Fathers day arrives and at school, there is a fathers day stall. I remember feeling low and unhappy the whole day, I didn’t speak to anybody, I didn’t eat, didn’t do anything but just sat there staring at the same point on the wall. Somehow I summoned the courage to confront the stall tables and choose out a gift for my father.
My dad had told me countless bedtime stories of sail ships and the ocean prior. My father had been an avid sailor all his life, in fact my Grandfather even more so, volunteering in WWII for the British Navy in Hong Kong. So keeping this in mind I bought him a glass bottle with a model sailing ship inside it.
Everyday I waited, I clutched onto the glass bottle, a reminder of my father and my father’s father. Then finally the day came. The day my father came home.
I could not sleep the night before, the morning I managed a bowl of cereal, and for the rest of the day I sat clutching onto the gift in my tiny palms. The doorbell rang, and I surged forward shouting in delight as I hugged his knees whilst he swept me into a tight embrace, I thought I saw a tear in his eye, but to this day he claims that it was only the trick of light.
13 years later I still have the glass bottle with the scale sailing ship. Its kept in the same photo cabinet as my Grandfather’s portrait.
This story reminds me of importance of a strong relationship between me and my parents. In hindsight I could see my selfishness in wanting to keep my father home to stay with me, but because of it, I feel that our bond is as strong as ever. So I guess it must be true; absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Although for me to enjoy such a realisation, I also see how my father faced grief, as a man, on his own and I recognise how difficult it must have been for him to come to terms with the loss of the same bond that I now felt.
Now I can’t say that I don’t dread the time when I too will be faced with such a loss, but through these reflections, I believe there will be a time where one understands that whatever happens, happens. And it is not what happens that matters, but it is how we deal with it that defines us as humans. To remember is much better than to forget.
In saying this, I will always remember you Grandpa and may you bask in the love and tenderness that your sons and daughters have shown you.
.:. Danny
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