My Father

It seems fitting that I should pen my tribute to my father on the upcoming Father's Day celebration in Australia.

If there was a job that everyone was destined in life, then my father's would be a dad. He is what one could call a 24 hour Dad, never tiring of the role that he was born to play. My father wasn't there in the hospital when I was born. I learned it from a letter that my Aunt Alice wrote to him when he was working in Germany. I chanced upon the letter via incident more than ten years ago and have never been able to locate it since. One of those unsolved mysteries ...

The letter was written by my aunt because the common language between my parents was Cantonese and my Dad would not been able to read the Mandarin characters, so it seemed fit that my aunt would be the one to write. The basic premise of the letter is to announce my birth and my adoption of his unofficial Christian name, James. I do not know why my aunt chose my father's name for me. I guess it could be a way to honour my father's best characteristics most significantly, his integrity. I certainly hope I lived up to that expectation.

Unlike my mother who would share stories of her childhood and youth, my father was a relatively reserved man. We knew that he came from a polygamous family, and somehow I was always under the impression that his father did not feature significantly in his life. I had imagined that it was his father's relative absence that inspired him to be involved in all aspects of our lives. I later realised through my aunt (his sister) that it was not true.

I know that there are many untold stories of my father's childhood that I wish to hear, to know what my dad was like as a child and a young man. To see the similarities or differences we share I also know that I will be the one who will have to take the initiative to dig them out, so I am hoping that this will help ease the first lines of communication.

Growing up, my father was a kind and loving disciplinarian. He played good parent while my mother played Ms Hyde most of the time. Together, they would try their individual best to instill the best values and knowledge, probably due to lost opportunities of their own life. They were very strict, insisting that we place studies above all else, so that we would end up being independent and dependable adults.

Every night, he would tuck us into bed, asking us if we loved him, which can be a little embarrassing at times, but thinking back now, it can be rather sweet too. As I mentioned before, my parents never shied from showing affection, and I can remember the day still that I told him not to hug me in public anymore. It must have hurt, but that is the impulsiveness of youth.

He also had his unique way of instilling his values in us. Besides showing his affection for us, he would make us promise since young that we would:

(a) never smoke
(b) never take drugs
(c) never gamble

It has proven to be really effective because I can still hear from his voice right now as I am typing. My mischievous little brother would sometimes try to get his way when he lost, by shouting to Dad, "Daddy, big brother is smoking" and Dad would storm into the room, and say "Is that true, James?". Such an insignificant but fond memory.

Dad was also rather good at mathematics, so he would sit us all down at the kitchen table every night when I started primary school and go through all our English and Mathematics homework. However, since he was not a teacher, there was only a limit to what he could impart. I remembered failing a Mathematics paper when I was in Year 3, and since I miraculously topped the class for the first (and last time) after the mid semester, my teacher wanted to know what happened. I told her eventually that my father didn't know enough about algebra then to teach me. I can't remember what happened after that, but in some ways, I probably knew that I was going to have to do it on my own from then on.

The other fond and significant recollection that I have is my Dad buying the entire collection (or the remainder) of the Secret Seven series that I lacked. All thirteen or so copies of it from the third book onwards. I knew that we were not rich because we rarely ate out, and we had to help Mum with the sewing as well, so I was astonished when he bought them all at MPH. I can still vaguely remember how proud I was when Dad brought them all to the counter and paid for them. That was his grand love for me.

The other reason why this stood out was because it was also the day that my grandparents moved to their new and eventual home in Ang Mo Kio. We visited them that afternoon immediately after the shop and someone spilled Fanta Orange all over some of the books. I can remember my anger and disappointment then, but nothing could rob me of the joys of owning the entire set, which I still own at home.

During my teenage years, I started to rebel at home. I had a "violent temper", one that Mum was quick to point as a flaw I shared with Dad. My results at school would deteriorate because I found it difficult to adapt to my teenage years as a "nerd" and misfit. I was plump and not as agile or sports oriented as my other fellow students. The only sport I was good at was swimming because Dad paid for lessons, but we never had swimming lessons at School, so I never had a chance to prove myself.

I feared Parents Day because I knew that I had let them down again but there was no way to get out of it. My only asylum was Japanese music, which my mother had no empathy at that time for, because she thought it was a hindrance to my performance at School. She was not entirely wrong. However, the more she objected, the more I rebelled.

Dad shocked me after one Parents Day though when he brought me out, after my teacher's less than favourable review, and bought me the most expensive watch I had ever owned. Even till now, I have no idea why he did it. I can only guess it is a way to motivate me to do better, but I didn't. I was lost.

I guess I didn't find myself until I left secondary school and realised how badly I had done in my "O" Levels, which left me little opportunities in life. I also worked for the first time in my life, lost some weight and gained some self confidence because I realised that I was a relatively fast learner and could adapt to changing demands rather fluidly. It was probably then
that life started making some sense for me.

Dad was an engineer, so in some ways, he probably wanted my brother and I to walk the same path as him. Alas, it was not my calling, but I managed to persevere and graduate with a Diploma in Mechanical Engineering. I made many good friends at Ngee Ann Polytechnic, sadly many of whom I had lost contact with. Thankfully, I found one of my best friends last year incidentally, and though the lines of communication are still rather irregular, we will never lose the bonds of friendship we held.

Dad's love for his children is never more pronounced when I started my two and a half year compulsory Army service after that. Unlike my fellow camp-mates, I was one of the only few that was picked up every Saturday afternoon and driven back every Sunday night by their parents. He never faltered once. It seemed that he would give up all other engagements so that he could be there.

It can get potentially a little embarrassing at times because I didn't want to be seen as being pampered, but strangely, the Army does strange things to immature minds. The absence from home and familial love makes one treasure the bonds of kinship more than ever. I was seen as the lucky one and I never took my parents' love for granted from then on. He is always keen to share his generosity, so my neighbouring friends benefited from the lift as well.

It is always interesting to see my father in the eyes of his friends, because that is the real him, not the familiar role of a father he adopts in our lives. There is an air of authority, integrity and respect that he garners and I can see that vividly in the eyes of his friends. He is usually silent, squirms a little under the praise of his friends, and I see and feel the strong and loyal man/friend they say he is.

He is a worker, not a talker. Through my aunt, I have learned more about my father than I could ever know, because he would never brag. I admire his courage and strength. When my grandma was on her death bed and the doctor wanted the family to make a decision to amputate her legs, it was left to him. The eldest son assigned by his mother and two younger siblings to make the most difficult decision one could ever want to be responsible for. I can not for my life, imagine how one would not crumble at this point in life, but knowing my father, he probably took it as a life decision that had to be made. I wasn't there, so I don't know if he ever wept, but knowing him, he probably did not do it in public.

When my aunt flew back from Australia to attend my grandmother's funeral, it was in the middle of our university Summer Term, and my father told us that our studies were more important, and how she would understand. After my aunt returned, she told us about her half siblings that she was surprised to see at the funeral. They had lost contact for a very long time and since my grandma bore some old grudge against my grandpa's other wives, the relationship has never been warm. So, when they arrived and adopted the deceased 's children identity (it is Taoist tradition that the more children you have, the more glorious you will look in the other world), my aunt was even more surprised. She engaged into lengthy conversations with them, and learned that the reason for them taking this duty was to return the favour my father gave to their mother a couple of years ago. No one in his family knew about it. Since he acknowledged their mother then, it was their turn to acknowledge his. I was moved to tears. I know my aunt was so proud of her brother then.

My father is a very kind man who loves children. I see it whenever I see him play with my nephew and niece. I see shades of my father as a young dad again. I have to say that he was a little surprised when I hugged him for the first time in years when I returned to Singapore from Australia, because he probably thought he would never get that back again. It is good that I am able to hug him now when I arrive back in Singapore and leave, or whenever I want to. I am also happy that we can tell each other that we love each other very much too.

Compared with many other friends and stories of upbringing I have read and heard, I think that though my childhood was relatively sheltered, we have been very lucky to be loved by two wonderful parents who always put us in the first place. We were not rich, couldn't afford as many luxuries, rarely ate out (McDonalds was considered a relative luxury), or went overseas for holidays, I still believe my parents came out tops, and there is not a thing I would change, except if I could have been more mature earlier in my age.

I want to thank my wonderful parents, for the love, patience, care, concern and support they have always provided us. My sister has been ushering me to write this because she says "He is just the best Dad in the world", and it is entirely true. My only wish now is to be able to learn more about the man I lovingly call my father.

I do not know if we make you both proud, but I hope we do. We may not be great achievers in life if you measure things via monetary means, but life is more than that. It is about love, relationships and respect. These wonderful loving lessons that we learned from the best teachers in the world, and in this aspect, we can proudly declare "Thank you for the rich lessons of love and life." We love you both very dearly.