Dearest Dad,
Isn’t it curious how the idea of “love” felt as unfamiliar to me while growing up in Hong Kong as the thought of snails being considered a delicacy? The phrase “I love you” were heard in movies, and read in books, but rarely uttered in real life.
Yet, somehow, without words, you have managed to impart the profound essence of love in ways that resonate deeply.
I will always remember the day we moved from a nice apartment to that scary neighborhood. The bathtub rusty, and the bathroom door refused to close properly. You bought cement and small floor tiles, transforming the bathtub into something usable. I saw what the raw cement did to your hands. Even then you fixed the door, ensuring we had at least a modicum of privacy, as the bathroom was on the open patio facing other apartments.
In that cramped kitchen, you created delicious dishes from the most basic ingredients—like candied potatoes, imitation crab made from duck eggs, and pasta crafted from flour paste seasoned with ginger and scallion oil.
No matter how challenging life became, you always found a way to surprise us with small joys, be it egg tarts or magic tricks, just to elicit our delighted squeals.
Then I became a mother myself. The phrase “I love you” continued to elude our household, as I lived with my traditional in-laws. Yet the love and care they lavished on my children spoke volumes beyond any words of affection.
I managed to balance the best of both worlds—running a full-time business while nurturing my daughters into kind, intelligent, and responsible women.
I thought my heart had reached its capacity for love, until my grandchildren arrived. I cannot pinpoint when it began, but I found myself saying “I love you” to them repeatedly during my visits. From waking them up with warm towels and surprises in the morning, to painting faces, indulging in forbidden treats, and tucking them in with bedtime stories and lullabies…
Dad, now at the age of 71, I finally grasp how fortunate I am to have been enveloped in love throughout my life. Not least the affection from my husband Bernie, my sisters Margaret and Cecilia, my brother George, my supportive in-laws Kam, Michael and Lily, my sons-in-law Craig and Chris, my seven brilliant nieces and nephews and their extraordinary partners, my former employees who remain dear to me, and my cherished friends. I wish I had realized that I did not need to hear “I love you” to appreciate the love that has always surrounded me.
But as they say, better late than never, right?
Dad, this will be the 28th year you are not here with us to celebrate Christmas. I can almost picture you and mom preparing for a spectacular holiday celebration with all the loved ones that have left us to join you, but, though there is some solace in knowing that you are in good company, I still miss you as much as the day you left.
Your third daughter,
Rose
Christmas 2024
