Something about just sitting in the Pacific till your fingers tips are well beyond small prunes, next to a speck of land, feeling oh so little and left to your own thoughts. Getting enraged beyond reason, but finding no where to go, no where to go but inside yourself. So you listen to the sound of your breathing bounce off the four walls of your tiny guest room until you've remastered it. Not understanding a word of what your family members are saying, silently cursing your father for not speaking to you in Chinese as a child. Then realizing it is your own fault for not trying to learn. Finally understanding him after 25 years, consequently understanding yourself. Trying to ignore the fact that he looks so much older each and every time you see him again. Seeing other things you would have rather not seen and hearing just as much of the same if not more.
Most painful, emotionally draining, yet a healing and beautiful trip this has been.
Part of me wishes I didn't have to leave so I could just take care of you, Dad.
No comments:
Post a Comment