April 10, 2012
It didn’t happen until three and half a
months after he was hospitalized for an unexpected car accident. The long wait
prompted by that unfortunate happening reduced him to a bag of bones and denied
his all-time wish to die a natural death, as from the moment he was doomed he had
unwittingly turned himself into a reluctant patient destined to endure the devastating
consequences of elongated surgical treatment and the inevitable effects of Alzheimer’s
disease. I felt sorry for that, because despite all my efforts I still fell short
of turning him back to normal. In a short time period he had ceased to
recognize me and wouldn’t bother saying anything heartily, even though the
breathing pipe that hindered him from doing so was already removed. I couldn’t
tell from his expression what he was thinking, or how he felt about his
circumstances. He just stared at me like a new-born babe. In no way could you
induce him to smile at you as he did in the past. I couldn’t believe that
everything changed so quickly that in no time he had become a stranger, indifferent
to those around him, and ignorant of the outside world that once captivated him
so much. Such was his unavoidable fate, coming to pass through his unyielding personality
or, as you would say, his stupid obstinacy. It’s something I knew from the very
beginning of the incident. Yet, I couldn’t do much to help him throughout the
entire process of his worsening health. Still, you couldn’t terminate your concern
and pretend none of that was your business, as all my life I never paid
something back in return for his awesome
contribution to me—that included tuition, board and meal for four years high
school and eight years college education. Of course, he gave that as a father
and I took that as his son. But, even if I were willing, I could never have
done the same thing for my kids. I just wondered how he could be so determined
as to sacrifice himself for us, becoming larger-than-life. But it was not because
of his greatness in this respect that I decided to do my bit as a son for him. It
was because I had come to the realization that the force that drove me to
continue my humanist pursuits, the force that helped heal my soul, the force
that elevated me to the state of spiritual holiness would all the more be an indispensable
contributor to my dignified existence. Thus, I couldn’t turn my back on the man
who needed me most by betraying my faith. This is an example that I will set
for my daughters, though in his earlier days dad told us not to save him if he
couldn’t turn it around. But how can one see his beloved elderly passing away
without doing anything? A custodial care worker employed by me at the hospital
told me the reason why she needed a lucrative job: She incurred up to NT$ 2
million debts via credit card borrowing to sustain the life of her father. That’s
a divine thing—by her noble action she had surpassed herself and us all. How could that be possible for me if I remained as
apathetic as before, committed only to a silly cause that looked so funny to
everyone else? As the black sheep of the family, I never gave Dad a chance to
see me as a writer. And he never got a chance to read what I wrote for him and
for others. That is a great pity, as I want Dad to be proud of me, proud of all
the things I have done in this world, because, without him breaking his back to
support me, I could never have the leeway to be myself.
Now, Dad is home. I feel
comforted—throughout his life, he never lived in a decent house like this (a completely
refurbished one), and never accompanied by a gentle lady hired at the cost of
NT$2,000 a day for around the clock service. It was a wish I had made since I
moved myself back to my hometown for his sake. With all brand-new equipments
and medical devices available, it certainly is a better place for him. Though Dad could no longer lavish praises on me
for the food I prepared, I still feel happy for being able to act out that wish
and see him at ease. After all, that’s the life I took with pride.
