The Path that’s Become, Too, Uncertain

The understanding of life this person had, arrived at, after experiencing the deaths of both his father AND his own young, translated…

No matter how old a person is when s/he had, lost your parents, the individual became, an orphan. The way the person entered into this world, had, collapsed. As the parents were still alive, the person knows where her/his origins are, as his path became, obstructed. As her/his parents are dead, the way s/he came, became, blurred, but where s/he is going, became, an opened path.

I’d felt like this, after my father died, it’d come, so suddenly. I’d said suddenly, because as my father was still alive, I’d not realized how he was, important in my life. From my teens, I’d become, a bit, estranged with my father. There were, too many mouths to feed, with the heavy burdens, my father always, in his foul mood. And every time this happened, I’d, picked up a book, and, without turning back, left the house, and, hid away out to read, to show my protest. Later, as I’d gone to Beijing to study, the very first letter from home contained over thousands of characters, and I’d, gave a full-scale criticism of how my father had, raised me. I’d heard my siblings told, that after he’d read it, he’d just, smiled, and told them, “Your older brother is a philosopher.”

As we got older and married, my father’s temperaments turned, milder. And still, every time I’d, gone to Shanghai, I’d always busied myself between friends, rarely stayed at home. And even if I’d stayed at home, it seemed, that it was, difficult, to strike up conversation with my father too, there’s still, that scent, of estrangement. One year he’d come to Beijing, it was a sunny day, and, he’d told me, if we’d hiked up Hsianshan together. I’d become, a bit, panicky, worried, that we may have nothing to talk about, and so, I’d, taken my young nephew along with us.

I was truly, a bad son, in the recent decade’s time, I’d only, wrote one letter home. And that was, after my wife was, pregnant. I knew my parents always wanted me to have a child, and, I’d relayed the good news to my parents back home in a letter. I’d told them, that my wife and I both wanted a daughter. My father wrote back, said that whether if it was a boy or girl, he’d be, glad. And, there was, that scent, of joy in his letter, I’d understood, that he was, glad over how he’d, finally received a letter I’d, written to him. But who was to know, that a few short days later, I’d, gotten the notice of my father’s death.

My father died very, abruptly. He’d always, been quite well, everybody believed he can, live very long. That morn, he’d gone to the markets to buy the vegetables and get the milk like he’d always done, then, walked to the office he worked in, to sort through some things. Then, in the middle of the nights, he’d felt, his chest was, stuck, and had my younger brother accompanied him to the hospitals, and, it was, a myocardio infarction, they’d immediately resuscitated him, and handed out the notices of him being in critical condition. AT noon, he’d told my younger brother who was by his side, to not make any rants about it, that he will be, all right. He didn’t believe, that he was, going to die, and yet, an hour later, he’d, stopped, breathing.

My father, never watched the birth of my own young. And, just as I’d hoped, I’d gotten me, a cute baby girl. And who could’ve, imagined, that my daughter was diagnosed, with a terminal condition, and died, when she was, a year and a half. Every time I’d recalled that letter telling him the good news, how he’d, reacted, I’d always felt I’d, wronged him. But thankfully, my father will never know, the tragic end. But, being a father once, I’d known, about how he’d, felt, and I’d felt ashamed, to realize, that he’d always been, longing to get close to me, but, I’d, stubbornly, turned him away.

In the two years that followed, I was, wrapped by bad luck, losing my father, and my daughter. Whilst my father was still alive, I’d, contemplated on the matters of death, but, there seemed, to be such a huge distance between death and I. For people with parents still living, there’s still, that scent, of death being, faraway. Later on, I’d become, a father myself, but, couldn’t have the time, to set up this blockage for my own young. My father’s death caused half of my world to collapse, and my daughter’s death, made me into, this house, with nothing in it. I’d, claimed, that you’d not needed any hardships in life, to know, the sorrows of this life, and now I knew, that those who knew pain, and those, who’d, experienced it, firsthand, are different.

And so, this, is the wisdom you’d gained, from the losses in your life, and, it’s, a difficult lesson to learn, but, fate had, given it to you, and you either learn it well, or, you will, suffer an even more awful consequence of life because you’d, failed to learn the lessons well.