I was born in 1983.  My mom said I was a cry baby, fragile, but cute enough that everyone wanted to hold me.

As I reflect back on my life thus far, I’ve had my fair share of angst, hardship, and utter happiness.  It sounds so cliche, but it’s true… I would not be the person I am today without having gone through all that I have gone through.

However, today is not about me.  It’s about my dad.  Today is his birthday.  Unfortunately, he is no longer with us.  He passed away back in November.

He was 83 years old.

Today, he would have been 84.  But damn, 83 years were just as good.

***

Everyone always talks about how their parents are the greatest and they’re the best, yadi-ya-ya.  Growing up, my parents were not the greatest.  In fact, they were even worst together as they bickered every single day of our lives.  When they did not bicker, we thought there was something wrong.  They were super strict, never allowed us to go anywhere or do anything with our friends outside of school.  It was hard growing up with them always hounding down on us.

But what they both have taught us throughout the years have been invaluable.  It isn’t until you get older that you learn what’s important and you start to see through all the inconveniences that made life so hard so long ago and you learn to appreciate what those moments really meant.

1. At a young age, we had to learn how to cook, clean, and garden.  I remember specifically my dad teaching my sister and I how to clean the bathroom…scrub the toilet, etc.  I remember him saying and laughing, “Don’t forget to close your mouth in case water splashes up when you’re scrubbing the inside of the bowl.”  In retrospect, my parents would have had to work even harder without our help.
2.  My dad was a frugal man, but for a good reasons.  Every penny he earned, he would tuck away out of reach.  He never splurged on anything, always wore second-hand items, and never ate out at restaurants.  But it’s how he was able to pay for a two-year old Corolla in cash when we were in high school.  We no longer had to wait for the bus or wait for him to pick us up after school and work.  By the way, that ’98 Corolla is still rolling strong – my sister uses it daily (Go, Toyota! Ha!).
3. My dad was a man of perseverance.  When I was five, he made me practice writing my number “8’s” lines at a time because for the life of me, I just couldn’t do it right.  When he returned from his bathroom break, he exclaimed, “Hey!  You just drew two circles on top of each other, that’s not right!”  So, I kept trying…and low and behold, I finally was able to do the stupid loop in one swoop.  **One of my best memories ever of my dad and I.**
4. My dad showed no affection.  His way of showing that he loved us was to keep a roof over our heads and to put food in our bellies.  Somehow, that was more than enough.  It was more prevalent later when you start remembering things like him giving you the drumstick off a fresh chicken at dinner, picking strawberries straight from the plants and dusting it off with his fingers before feeding you, and of course the “I trust you to make the right choices in your life” nod.  He respected us enough to make our own choices, mistakes, and be able to own up to them.  If you couldn’t own up to them, well, he wouldn’t say anything to make you feel worse, he just wouldn’t say anything at all.  And if you did something that would make him proud, he would say “Awm, ua li.” with an affirming nod which meant “Yes, do that.”  Those words accompanied by that nod meant so much more than a ribbon or a trophy.
5. My dad was never boastful – he was a well respected man in the Hmong community.  I do have to share that I learned during his funeral that he was a great leader for his village in Laos and that he was a cop.  A cop!  This was all before he met my mother and it seems that the other part of my family just forgot about it or just didn’t care to relay it to the rest of the family that my dad was a badass! All the chances we had over all those years that we could have asked him to tell us stories about his youth slipped before we even knew how to grasp them.  Also, I knew that my dad had fought alongside the CIA in the Secret War in Laos and my mom would tell us stories on how my dad had to camp out in the jungle for nine months because he was a wanted man by the communists.  Well, turns out it was because he knew where the communists were hiding their weapon stash and was relaying the information back to the CIA.  It made me respect my dad even more that he was so modest about his accomplishments.
6. My dad was a student and a teacher simultaneously throughout all his years.   He was like a knowledge repository of Hmong traditions and rituals.  He loved to teach those that wanted to learn and offered his time freely.  Similarly, he never wanted to stop learning.  He was always an advocate for knowledge and education.  Back in Laos, he actually forfeited school so that he could take care of his brothers as he was the second eldest.  But he never dwelled on it, he continued learning in his own time.  I’m pretty sure 95% of his free time, he would have a pen or pencil in his hand and be writing something – a reminder, a blurb, a date in time.  Another fond memory – he’d always be head down and scratching away at some random thought.

***

It’s definitely been hard to talk about his death.  I’ve only shared my last moments with him with a few people mainly because it’s quite painful that I remember every little detail.

It was a bad combination of being a dialysis patient + broken, but recovering hip bone + a very large stroke.  With the stroke, he could not eat on his own.  And if he did eat, we would have to perform dialysis.  My dad always said if his time came down to feeding tubes, he would not want to prolong his life.  So, to respect his wishes, we collectively decided as a family to bring him home to hospice care.  The doctors said that without food and dialysis, his body would deteriorate within a few days.

During my dad’s last few days, all my siblings and half siblings were under one roof.  It was heartbreaking because though we were all there, our dad could not have a meal with us.  Around the dinner table, we reminisced about the good times with my dad and still cried, nevertheless.  He spent four days with us at home before he left us.

Nothing ever prepares you for death.  You think that you can embrace the inevitable, but when it is staring you blank in the face, you cower, bawl, and scream.  I miss him dearly, but I take comfort in knowing that he lived a full and long life and that he is no longer in pain.

***

Happy Birthday, Dad.  I love you and miss you every day.

This is a video that was compiled in memory of my dad.  A few notes on the video:
1. You’ll see two sets of families (how some people wanted to drive the video) – my dad had two wives, so there are 9 kids total – 4 from the first wife, 5 from the second wife (my mom)
2. My dad’s real birth year is 1928, but coming to America, documents were updated to 1932 (not entirely sure why)