Favorite Things About Dad:
1) His random love for Sushi Boat.
Dad was so funny--he came barging in my room to interrupt my practicing and ask what I wanted for dinner...I was like, "I don't care, anything," and he went, "So...you want take out?" "Well I don't care, whatever you want." "Oh, so you want Sushi Boat take out? Okay great!" ...ha, he loves Sushi Boat.
2) His interactions with Mei.
Mei was playing Chopin on piano (it sounded pretty atonal), and Dad was all, "Whenever Mei plays piano, all my stocks drop." HAHAHA so hilarious. And what's even funnier is that Mei isn't even insulted when we laugh at her playing...she even joins in.
HAHA oh dear. Dad just accidentally ate Mei's bag lunch that she packed for herself. Mom is hysterical with laughter.
3) His super long prayers (long mostly because he talks. So. Slowly).
Mei: Dad, you don't have to pray for me tonight, I can pray by myself.
Dad: Nooo...I want to! I have to! I must to!
Mei: *sigh*
4) How he keeps his computer on Caps Lock. First he said it's because it's bigger and easier for him to read, but eventually we found out that he just can't figure out how to turn the Caps Lock off. So every time we chat on Skype, it looks like he's super excited.
[12:28:10 AM] Shinshi Wey: GOOG NIGHT!
(He's also not the best at spelling.)
5) How he dresses up whenever he goes out, for no apparent reason. I guess he just likes wearing suits, although I can't imagine why.
This morning-
Me: Dad, why did you dress up to go to your dentist appointment?
Dad: Well, I might go look for the rice cooker for church afterwards.
Me: Well...why do you have to dress up for that?
Dad: ...I don't know!
6) How he gets confused with English words.
We were talking about musicians with mental disorders today over dinner (don't ask why), and Dad was all, "Yes, it's like that movie, what's it called? Cocoa nuts? Coconut?" It turned out he was trying to talk about One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.
7) How he always falls asleep. Once he came stomping out of the office all disgruntled, and when we asked what was wrong, he said that he'd fallen asleep at the computer with his finger on the "d" key, and ended up typing 5 pages of "dddddddddd" during his nap. Then after he woke up, he spent 15 minutes erasing it all (I guess it didn't occur to him to just highlight it and press delete).
8) His complete lack of understanding how to take care of plants.
Mom said that Dad called her while she was in Taiwan. He was standing in the family room staring in puzzlement at Christine (the prayer plant), and apparently he was asking, "What is wrong with this plant?" and when Mom went, "Why?" he was complaining about how it was brown and withered. "Well...did you water it?" "No. Why?"
9) Since I've basically been making fun of him this whole time, here's a serious one.
It was hot, as usual, in Taiwan, and I felt the sun's rays attach themselves immediately to my hair and scalp as I stepped out of the black car. The building where Grandma's funeral would take place was crowded, and resembled a row of stores at the Gilroy outlets. Mom went to park the car while Mei and I were given black robes to put on. I was exasperated because I had spent the whole morning choosing an "appropriate" black outfit for the occasion, and it turned out that what I wore didn't even matter. The customary Taiwanese funeral robe was so large, my shoes barely peeked out from under its edges. The ceremonial room had air conditioning and enough folding chairs for maybe fifty people. At the front, there was a pulpit, an electric piano, and a white display with a framed picture of Grandma. It was a nice photo--she's laughing and she looks healthy. The atmosphere was dreary and somber, but more restless than anything. The minister talked and we prayed. At one point, family members were told to gather around the coffin and body to "say good bye," but I stood back because I knew I could never deal with seeing Grandma's actual body. I think it was more witnessing the people I love suffer than actually losing Grandma that hit me hardest. Soon, it was time for speeches from children and grandchildren of the deceased. Dad went first. Neither of my aunts spoke...maybe because they wouldn't be capable of getting through a speech during such an emotional time. Dad walked up to the pulpit. I was praying so hard for him...I don't know if I've ever prayed that hard in my entire life. I had sort of talked to him about his speech beforehand, and he kept telling me how he might not be able to get through the whole thing. But I'd heard his speech, and the most moving part is the end. It basically starts with a brief history of Grandma's past...her upbringing, religion, occupation, marraige, motherhood. Then he described her as a mother and moved on to her sickness. He said that she had the best care possible during her last few years, and that her unconditional love will always be present, despite her death. He was already red-eyed when he began, and I could tell he was really nervous. In the middle, he sort of choked up and had to pause a couple times. People around me were sniffing and crying, but strangely I didn't feel sad. All my energy was channeled into praying for him and internally chanting for him to keep going, encouraging him and cheering him on. And when he finally finished his speech, I don't think I've ever been prouder of anyone.
At that moment, I realized what a heart my father has. To be able to write a speech like that, and then deliver it, despite the overwhelming grief and despair that must have been coursing through him, is truly admirable. His speech was what sustained me through the next few days--I knew that if Dad was strong enough to bear the pain, we would all get through all right in the end.
