Family Reunion

A couple of months ago, probably before the winter holidays, a video started circulating on FB. It was an ad, though I don't recall precisely what it was for. It was not an American ad, but from one of the European countries. In it an elderly man who lives alone is trying to get his grown children to visit. They are scattered all over the world, and busy with their careers, their families, their very busy lives. One by one they call and leave messages that they would love to visit this year, but just can't get away, but they will certainly try next year. Each year the father eats Christmas dinner alone at a huge dining table. Then one day each of the children get a message that the father has passed away, and the funeral will be held. So the children and their families fly home and meet up at the father's house. They stop for a moment just outside, hug each other tearfully and come into an immaculately kept house. As they enter the empty dining room, in comes their father, alive and well. As the children try to get over the shock and joy, the father says, "It was the only way I could get you all to visit!" And the video ends with the entire family seated around the table having dinner. As I said, I don't recall what the ad was for, but the message was clear. Don't wait until it's too late to spend time with the ones you love.

I'm not sure if my siblings saw this ad, but the sentiment was certainly strong in their hearts because last weekend, they came out to see Mom and Dad. The concern was that if they waited too long, Dad might not remember them anymore. They decided to come out by themselves so they could focus all of their attention solely on their parents. Seeing Dad, and having him recognize them all and smile was a very emotional time. Each of them were able to reconnect with him. Dad was happy to see them, and was able to say their names.

We are all glad I started this blog, because it has prepared them for Dad's present state. Even so, I think seeing his decline from the last time was hard. Dad was still talking quite a bit then, and even though he sometimes had trouble making himself understood, he was very much on point. Now he often talks of people who are far away, mixing them up with people who have passed on. And that's if he talks at all. Much of the time he is silent, in his own thoughts.

Even though this weekend's visit was for Dad, I will say that it was awesome just to hang out with my siblings again. We are rarely all together in one place for any period of time, and we just HAD FUN. We ate a lot, laughed at our longtime inside jokes, and even watched an old favorite movie. I think what has made our living arrangement possible is that all 4 of us are on the same page, and that is possible because we have strong bonds. This is very funny considering how much we scrapped and bickered when we were kids. But now we are all in for each other, and I think it really makes a difference when as adults we now have to consider how best to take care of our parents. I remember emailing them after meeting with Mom's lawyer and trying to explain how she was going to handle her financials. And the gist of the response was, "I can barely understand what you just said, but I trust whatever it is you are doing, thanks so much for helping Mom do this." When I told the lawyer she laughed and said that usually isn't the case, but it's great if it is. And I am thankful for that.

I'm going to end with an FB post my brother shared about his goodbye to Dad. He said goodbye to Dad before bed because he was leaving super early the next morning.

"I'm leaving my oldest sister's house at 4am tomorrow morning, so tonight before my dad went to bed my youngest sister and I said goodbye to him. She spoke to him in Taiwanese and said that she would pray with him. A few moments into her prayer, he must have understood what she was doing, because he closed his eyes. It was wonderful to see. When she was done, she said goodbye, said "I love you," and kissed him on the head. Then she walked out of the room.

When I walked up to him, his eyes were still closed. I think even though he knew she was done praying and had left, his brain still had yet to tell him to open his eyes. I had to tap him a few times and call his name for him to open them up again. Either that, or he was still praying to himself.

I looked at him and I said, "Okay Dad! I'm going to leave tomorrow, so I'm saying goodbye, Okay? I'll see you soon. I mean, I'll see you...ummm see you next time."

My dad wasn't looking at me. He was looking sort of away and nodding a bit. My mom, who was standing there, said that she thought he didn't want to hear that I was leaving. I looked at him and held his hand, and said, "Dad, I love you."

Now this may seem strange to many of you, but I can probably count on one hand, maybe even half a hand, the number of times I've said those words to my dad, and vice versa. It's not that we didn't feel that way. We just didn't verbalize our feelings that much in our family. So when I said those words, I can honestly say I don't remember the last time I said them to him.

When I said, "I love you," my dad suddenly turned his face toward me, looked at me, and brought his hand to my cheek and stroked it. I didn't know what to do. That moment may have been the closest, most meaningful moment my dad and I ever shared ever since I came out to him 22 years ago. Probably even before that.

Even though I know my dad's love for me had never wavered even after telling him that I was gay, there had always been a little feeling of guilt on my part that I couldn't exactly be the son he dreamed of having. That the plan for me was different from what he had envisioned.

For the past few years, knowing that my father was getting on, and would possibly not be around for that much longer, it started to become really important for me to find a boyfriend or husband before my father passed on, because I wanted my dad to have a chance to meet this imaginary man, so that I could know that my dad was okay with me, and that he approved of who I was, and who I would possibly be with for the rest of my life.

That never happened.

But during that moment tonight, I suddenly realized that it didn't matter. Because when my dad looked into my eyes and stroked my cheek as I held his hand, it was magical. I mentioned earlier that I didn't know what to do, because, I REALLY didn't know what to do. So all I did was just sit there, look at him, and savor the moment. It wasn't necessarily approval I felt. I may not ever get it, and I'm starting to be okay with that. What I felt was so much more important.

What I felt was simply unconditional love.

I finally said, "Okay, Dad! Goodbye! I stood up and kissed him on the head. I walked away a few steps, stopped, turned around and waved goodbye. He waved goodbye back with both his hands, and then he did a strange thing. He lightly clapped his hands a few times and smiled, looking at me the whole time. Thinking about it right now as I write this is making me cry. Sad and happy tears.

I can't tell you all how much this trip to NH has meant to me. I don't know exactly what the future will bring or exactly when things will happen, but I know that at least for THAT moment, my dad and I were okay. We were better than okay. And even if he never remembers it, I always will for as long as I'm able.

I'm so glad that I told him I loved him, and I'm so glad that he heard it."

One of my sisters had the notion that this might be the last time they see Dad alive. I think they will see him again before he passes. But  there has been so much closure and connection this weekend, that there is no unfinished business left undone. Now, every time they see Dad will be bonus. It will be just another opportunity for love and connection. And for everyone who is reading this, I hope the same for you and your loved ones.