I think I should tell you the story, or what I remember, of what happened. Do not read this if it is too painful. This is my point of view.
I just thought you would like to have the option.
Dad had been ill for a few weeks. Mum and I both thought it was nothing much, just the average fever. Then it seemed to get worse. Dad refused to go to a doctor, for fear that they would talk about his weight. He kept taking Chinese herbs that supposedly he believed would make him better. However, this would only be psychological. It got worse. He started getting diarrhea. It was black in colour. We didn’t know, but it was blood. We just thought it was his kidneys/liver clearing all the bad stuff. It still got worse. Mum and I were starting to get really worried. Dad finally agreed to go see the doctor once he had suffered through a few spasms. They were horrible to look at. You want to do something but there is nothing you can do. It was the most depressing and scary thing I have ever seen.
After that, the doctor gave him some medicine and told him it was a kidney infection. But it was not just that, it was a lot more. She advised him to go to the hospital which he refused. He finally gave in a few days later. The prior days he had been getting slightly better and had been going downstairs but could not manage to get up the stairs. One evening I had to help him out of the car to the bank and back, then upstairs. That day I hoped ever so much that he was going to go to the hospital. Something felt different. I felt that night; a controversial, calm yet worried sensation. As if, if he had gone to hospital that day he may have survived. A few days later, he went into hospital. He was in ICU for a day or two while the doctors ran lots of different checks and scans to see what the core problem was. Nothing could really be worked out. It seemed he had been ill for a long time already, we just never knew. Then that night the doctor said things were ‘critical’ and to ‘prepare for the worst’. I cried. I called our family and told them of the situation. Mum asked me to ask my sister to sort out getting the next flight out to here.
12th August, ETD: 6:35am.
We get a call from the hospital saying come urgently. Bring your family. We rushed to the hospital. They told us that he had died. They did all they could but everything just failed. That was it. We walked over to his side and floods of tears fell. We spent a few minutes with him before telling everyone. That one moment, the world stopped. It was almost unbelievable. My dad was gone. The one security we never really knew we needed so much until it was gone. The wall that was behind us, was demolished. It tore my heart open. It really did. I just cried. Mum cried too. Mum asked me what the time was. It was7:17am on the 12th of August. 7 days after my birthday. 7 is my favourite number because it rhymes with heaven and 777 is said to be heaven’s door number. It seems silly to think it was a sign, but I don’t think it was unintentionally a coincidence.
We had to meet 3 of my siblings at the airport. That was hard. They hadn’t heard because they had been on the plane. Once we picked them up we went straight to the place where Dad was to be buried. It was a beautiful Chinese place with beautiful landscaping. It was very clean and tidy although expensive.
The service started at the morgue at the General Hospital. It went well. A lot of my friends and classmates came. Those who couldn’t make it, sent bouquets of flowers. Also, dad’s companies sent flowers too. They looked beautiful. I was so thankful that I was surrounded by loving, caring people. Although they couldn’t do anything, that they were there was enough for me.
My brother and I wrote a poem and said it out at dad’s funeral. My other brother read out one that two of my sisters had picked out. Mine starts with a verse of introduction and then into a slightly different style. They are as follows:
Memories Heal
by Patrick
Father, brother, husband and friend.
A good man to the end.
Without you here life seems wrong.
It's hard to believe that your gone.
Happiness seems so long and far.
And darkness follows where ever we are.
Love seems gone, until you ask why?
Tears of sadness can become joy.
Our memories of you, brings warmth to our hearts.
Your smile your laugh is where it all starts.
Chosen Poem
read by Robert John
He is Gone
You can shed tears that he is gone
or you can smile because he has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that he'll come back
or you can open your eyes and see all he's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see him
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember him and only that he's gone
or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
or you can do what he'd want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.
Lost. Regretful. Dealing with it.
by Barnaby Chiew
What’s a boy suppose to do,
When his father's gone and left him blue,
Left him wondering where you are,
And why you were taken away so fast.
I can’t express in words,
How much you mean to me,
I haven’ t just lost a father,
I've lost such a friend as thee.
I just took for granted,
All the things you did,
All the ways you showed me,
How much you really cared.
But deep down in that heart of mine,
That sincere nod of truth,
Showed me that you loved me back,
Showed me you understood.
Understood the love I gave,
My broken heart to be,
I know your looking down upon,
What’s left of me.
And as your up there, up above.
A guardian angel, lighting our path,
Knowing that you've done your part,
You'll never ever leave our hearts.
That poem took me hours to write. I had writer’s block. I am usually usually writing them with ease, but this one struck me hard. I had to sit on the top of the stairs listening to music to think of what to write. Hope you like it.
Sometimes I lock myself in my room, other times I go for a walk. Just to get away.
I’m dealing with everything, although I never knew what to say when people say I’m sorry. I hardly think it worth saying. I feel like saying was it you who caused my father’s death? No? Well why are you apologizing for?
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Well, that's my new life.
