Page 65 of Some Things Never Change
As our family gossiped, chatted, and debated, Andy and I glanced at each other in the chaos of it with smiles on our lips. Unbeknownst to the others, under the table, Andy’s warm hand held mine. This was our secret for now.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
I woke up midmorning to my room being freezing cold, to my surprise. Since it was the smallest out of our three-bedroom and two-bathroom house, it was often the coolest one during the summer and warmest in the winter with the AC or heater on. But the complete opposite without either of it. I could have sworn we left the heater on last night, but maybe my mom or Jonathan woke up in the middle of the night to turn it off.
I quickly peeked outside the window and was disappointed to see the sky gray, gloomy, and cloudy. No wonder it was so cold. It was probably going to rain. I sighed as I pulled the covers up to my cold nose and laid there, thinking about my dad and how long he had been gone.
Twenty years. I was eight when he passed away and, even at that age, I knew death meant I was never going to see him again. In the two decades since he had been gone, I no longer cried whenever I thought about him. Although I felt sad when I missed him, the pain wasn’t as overwhelming and debilitating as it once was.
It was hard at first, but as the many years passed by, I learned to live past the grief and hurt over the emptiness he left behind. At twenty-eight years old, in the twenty years since my dad had been gone, I’d learned how to live without him in my life.
Since he passed away so young, I often wondered what his hopes, aspirations, and dreams were for me. Without a doubt, I’m sure he would have wanted me to get a college degree and attempt to be a lawyer or doctor. But, with those typical Asian parent aspirations aside, I wanted to know what his reaction would have been to me graduating both high school and college summa cum laude, or getting my first college acceptance letter, or my first internship at a big interior design firm, or my first job offer.
I knew he would have been proud of me and even prouder of Jonathan and his accomplishments. But I would have loved to have seen that big, gentle smile he always wore and hear his gentle laugh I remembered so clearly. I would have wanted him to know that both his and my mom’s back-breaking efforts to give us the best life they could give us weren’t in vain. I wanted him to know that both Jonathan and I became the American dream the two of them always aspired for.
More than anything, I wish I could hear my dad tell me how proud he was of Jonathan and me.
As all these thoughts swam in my mind, I heard a small knock on my door and shuffling from the other side. It was probably Jonathan because my mom never knocked, let alone waited for me to open the door.
“Hmm?” I answered, sleepily.
“Get up,” said my brother through the closed door. “We need to get ready to go to the cemetery.”
As a family, we always visited my dad every year for his death anniversary with the Hugheses. Today we were going to visit my dad like we usually did whenever I made the trip back with a small meal and drink, as always. But instead of just any meal, we brought his favorite meal. It consisted of a fish soup with herbs, cherry tomatoes, and lots of Thai chili peppers paired with rice.
I got up from my warm bed and opened the door to find Jonathan still standing there with his burly naked arms sticking out of a tank top, wild bed hair, and sleepy eyes. He looked down at me from where he stood, upset.
“I need to talk for a bit,” he said, coming in. “In private. It’s about Dad.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I quickly closed the door as I turned to him.
Sitting on the bed, my brother looked almost like a kid again.
“I don’t know what to make of Dad being gone for twenty years,” he said with his eyes glued to the ground. He frowned. “I miss him, but I feel like I hardly miss him as much as you or Mom. What’s even worse is how I hardly remember much about him, either.”
Sadness washed over me as I sat next to him on my still-warm bed. I draped my arm across his broad shoulders and pulled him into my side. I squeezed his hard shoulder. “It’s perfectly fine if you feel that way. He passed away when you were six.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t like I was a toddler. I was old enough to remember what it was actually like to have a dad. I should miss and remember him at least, you know?” countered Jonathan. He let out a long sigh. “But I don’t. Not as much as you or Mom, and it makes me feel ashamed and guilty.”
“There’s nothing for you to feel ashamed or guilty about. Dad’s been gone for more than half our lives. You were practically a baby then.”
I let the silence settle after what I said. But with that small frown etched on Jonathan’s lips, I knew my words weren’t getting to him. He was being too hard on himself.
“Just because I had about two extra years with Dad doesn’t mean I miss him any more or less than you. Jonathan, Dad’s been gone since you were six. He hasn’t been here with us for twenty years of your life, but that doesn’t mean you love him any less. Right?”
He finally looked up and met my eyes. His facial features softened. “Of course not. Dad will always be my dad, and I’ll always care about him.”
I gave him a small nod. “See?”
He nodded back, slowly. “How are you doing with the fact that he’s been gone for this long?”
I paused for a moment, as I tried to put my feelings into words. “Some days, when I take a moment to remember there was a time long ago when it wasn’t just us three, but us four, I get sad and I miss Dad.
“It makes me feel bad sometimes, like I’m forgetting him, but the truth is that this is what moving on after his death looks like to me after twenty years. Just because I don’t spend every moment of my life thinking about him doesn’t mean I love him any less or don’t miss him. I will always miss and love Dad.”
Jonathan let out a long exhale, as if he was absorbing the words I said. “Dad’s been gone for so long that I don’t even remember his voice anymore. I hardly recognize his voice when we’re watching those old tapes the Hugheses took when we were kids.”
