Tag Archives: my father

Working in Stuck

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Photo by DS stories on Pexels.com

It’s occurred to me to keep a diary of this period of being stuck in stuck. Perhaps it will help me inch my way out of it. So far I’m not having much luck. I’m still wallowing round and round, going nowhere. But at least I’ve tapped out a couple of sentences here. Oh, yes, I did ordered some cheques from the bank this morning. I was surprised that the cheques and delivery are free. Isn’t that wonderful?

The thing that I haven’t failed is taking my father out for coffee every afternoon. How can I not do that, eh? He is 94 and has never, ever been alone till my mother passed away last October. It’s a miracle of some sort that we’ve muddled through a year without her. Today I realized I’m happy that she is free of all her physical pain and earthly cares. It lightens the load that I have felt for many years. I feel a peace of some kind. Maybe now I can start to sort and weed the clutter in my head and elsewhere.

Some people are surprised that I can take my father out every day. It is really not a big deal. I am happy that I am able to give him a couple of hours a day. I do my other stuff before and after. I look at it as my afternoon coffee break. I get to spend some time with him and see how he is managing. It settles my mind and I can sleep at night. I also get to know him a little better. He is like his generation of Chinese immigrant fathers.They work and work, leaving the nurturing to the mothers. I’m not complaining or criticising. It’s just what it was.

I’m feeling a little less stuck. Sometimes it helps to talk on my keyboard. Some things get loose and unstuck. Supper is almost ready. Time to eat. It’s goat tonight.

Sunday Morning Chatter

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A cool grey Sunday morning. We turned the furnace on. It rained most of the day yesterday. Our water catchments filled to overflowing. The garden is quenched. I am feeling relaxed. The sun is trying to shine through the clouds, casting a pale light before disappearing again. I am trying to move forward though I am still living in sweat pants. Why not? They are soft and comfortable with deep pockets. I have no fancy places to go to.

I will head out to the greenhouse later this morning. It’s time to take down the snowpeas and give the space over to other plants. Though there are still peas coming, some of the leaves are turning yellow. The aphids are at them. Taking them down might rid the aphids. I still have a sweet one million tomato waiting as well as 2 bitter melons. I will try out a couple of brussels sprouts as they will grow too tall for the covered raised bed outside. There’s less chance of cabbage butterflies visiting the greenhouse.

My days are always busy. There’s always the yard and garden. There’s my father to visit. It’s a routine now to take him to a mall to walk and have a coffee. On days when we miss, it doesn’t feel quite right. I would feel fidgety with discomfort. It’s strange how we didn’t have much of a relationship till now, after my mother died. I gave all my love and attention to my mother. Maybe it is the times and their generation. It’s the mothers that did the bonding and nurturing. Then there’s the fact that we’re immigrants. My father left China when I was a baby. I didn’t meet him again till I was 6 when we reunited in Hong Kong for a year. Then he returned to Canada. It was almost 2 years before our family was united again.

Life is a complicated journey. I think if we knew better, we would have done better. I consider myself lucky I still have this time with my father to hear his stories. The other day I found this book called What My Father and I Don’t Talk About. I think the book found me. Someone/something knows what I need in these times. It’s funny how these things happen just what and when we need them.

Tsunamis and Tidal Waves

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I am enjoying a bit of good energy and vibes this morning. It’s such a relief after yesterday. I have been warned about days where grief can hit you like tsunami or tidal wave. I am not even sure if it is grief. It came out of nowhere yesterday morning. I was hit with such a bad feeling. It was hard to swallow, think, to move. I wondered how I could carry on, breathe, cook, clean, write my post. I worried about my father’s health. He is after all, 93, the same age as my mother. I don’t want to be responsible for for his health/life. It doesn’t seem fair and I am a little ticked off at my mother for leaving us – and without a manual to guide us.

It’s a bit strange but most times I don’t feel her death. She’s just not here. And with her gone, I feel the many losses of our family. There’s no one to call me by my Chinese name except my father. I just realized that yesterday. It makes me feel somewhat heart broken. And there will be no one to ask or talk to about our home village and all things regarding our heritage and ancestors. My father still has a remarkable memory about all that though he has not been back since he left as a young man. I was drowning with all these thoughts and guilt on things I didn’t do.

All things do pass. I was able to get beyond my emotions and put one foot in front of the other. There’s life to be lived and things we have to do. No matter how we feel, we have to get up, dress up and show up somehow. Some days are better than others. Today is a better day. I thought out what I want/have to do and the best of how and when to do them. Progress is slow and minuscule. I see results and I am happy with them. I’ve been to the gym this morning, planted all the cauliflower and harvested lettuce from the greenhouse for lunch. I am a happy and relaxed camper.

the first year.

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A beautiful sunny Easter Sunday. I’ve been up and at it. It’s easier now that daylight comes by 6:30. I’ve pushed the dust mop around the floors. Been out to vote. Now sipping my second cup of tea, enjoying the sunshine through the windows and tapping my words for the Ultimate Blog Challenge.It’s getting easier, getting to be a habit, a ritual of a sort.

Today marks 6 months since my mother have left. In these 6 months we have muddled through Thanksgiving, Christmas and now Easter. We had our Easter supper with my father last evening. My turkey roasted according to Chef John’s recipe turned out perfect – juicy and golden brown. Though my father thought it was a little overdone, he had 2 healthy helpings. He did not remark on the 6 months but I am sure it wasn’t forgotten. I was happy to see he enjoyed the food, our company and conversation. Tonight we will have our supper with our extended family at a Chinese restaurant.

The Spotlight is on My Father

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I’ve hit a snag on day 6 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. Instead of getting down to business and writing, I started to delete my media library. One thing led to another. I couldn’t stop until it was emptied except for a few favourites. So I’m trying to stay calm and not scramble to find a few words. My advice to myself is stay with the program. Make it simple. Make it easy.

I’m taking Paul Taubman, our digital maestro’s idea of spotlighting a person in my life. So the spotlight is on my father. I took him out for coffee this afternoon. Since my mother passed in October, I’ve been trying to spend more time with him. It’s the first time he’s ever been alone. It’s a hard task at 93 years old. He had a few rough spells in the beginning, requiring a hospitalization. Now, it’s a few doctor’s visits once in awhile.

He’s doing remarkably well. He still lives in his own house and cooks for himself. We help him with groceries, housework and snow shovelling. We visit, take him on outings and meals sometimes. He plays Majong on his iPad, reads Chinese books I get from the library. He dresses and bathes himself. Uses cane/walker. He gets lonely for mom, of course. When he gets down, I remind him how remarkable he is, that he’s doing all these things. I remind him, too, that he is continent of everything, not peeing or pooping his pants. He laughs and things pass.

Thursday (#NaBloPoMo)

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You can tell I’m tired and uninspired by the title of this post. I haven’t really realized what a mess I am and what a mess I’m in till the last few days. I woke up and saw everything after my mother died. These past weeks were busy taking care of the business of her passing. I was surviving on adrenaline.

Now I have to get into the business of my own life. I haven’t thought about that for a long time, that I had a separate life. There was just the 2 of us for the first 6 years of my life. My parents married when they were one month shy of 18. They were still babies in an arranged marriage. My father was still going to school. That was how it was in China then. When I was 2, my father immigrated to Canada. I had no memories of him during those 2 years.

I did not meet him till I was 6 when my mother and I reunited with him in Hong Kong. He stayed for a year. My sister was conceived and born. I have no memories of my father during that time either except that I was reprimanded for not calling this stranger ‘father’. My sister was almost 2 when we joined him in Canada.

My mother did not know English. Being in a small town in Saskatchewan there were little resources in learning for immigrants back in those days. My father was busy in the cafe earning a living for us. My mother had no one to talk to except me. So that is how I became my mother’s confidante. She was a very good story teller. The times she lived through had many stories. Her family had a very interesting history. I heard them all and more besides. I am sure I became part of my mother with all her feelings of hope, happiness but fears and anxieties as well.

Now comes the challenging part for me – to unravel all of that and put them to rest. I need to to do that to find myself and my own life.