Dad's Legacy

I could still remember when I was asked to write about an idol in my life in my form 2 or 3 assignment. Most of the friends wrote about their father. But I chose to differ. I could think of nothing to write about my dad. We lived in a house but he was like a distant away from me. He was always early to work and came home late in the night, when all of us had gone to sleep. I ended up writing about a neighbour with a title of PJK.

Time had definitely changed things tremendously. Dad had changed too and his changes had clearly influenced me. We were more like best buddy when I was studying in University. Maybe it was that time that we missed each other so much that we knew the value of a father-daughter relationship.

Dad had been encouraging during my uni years, unlike my school days where he demanded results rather than attending to how I felt. But it was a blessing that Dad consoled me and told me through the phone when I was far away in the university, “Just do your best. Don’t over stressed.” Those words made me to have the courage to go on.

After my graduation, Dad was the one taking me for interviews. I was not familiar, or should I say, I don’t drive well though I have a license then. So, Dad had to chauffeur me to wherever I was appointed for interviews. Every time before I apply for a job, I would ask him where was this place or where was that place to make sure it is somewhere near my house.

Walking down the aisle was the most beautiful moment of a lady, I could say. Having my dad, walking beside me from the entrance of the church to the stage of the hall, was a blessing. We walked arm in arm, smiling when the church organ sounded and people on both sides, clapping and cheering. It was at this tremendous happy moment that tears filled my dad’s eyes. He was going to hand in his daughter to another man. He thought I was going to leave him alone. But not that easy! It was yet another blessing that I was able to live with my parents after marriage. Dad was delighted that I could be his pampered daughter again. We could chat till midnight, recounting both our experiences.

Dad had always been there.

It was end of year 2006 that Dad found himself to diagnose with tuberculosis. He had three months of medication and diet food and we were waiting eagerly to see him recover. After the three months, he was confirmed to have fully recovered from the disease. We were cheering about that but joy was short live. After only a month, doctor said that he might have some problem with the liver.

One evening, in March 2007, I got home and found Dad lying on the bed. He was staring blankly at the ceiling when I greeted him. He looked at me and blurted, “Doctor said it might be cancer.” Tears started to fill both of our eyes. Dad started crying while I denied the truth and comforted him by saying, “Don’t worry. There is no confirmation yet.”

I could not be too emotional. I had to be strong. I was pregnant! I had to keep the foetus healthy.

Things turned out to be ugly. I had a miscarriage while Dad was diagnosed with liver cancer third stage. His tumour was approximately 10cm. It was too traumatic for me to lose my baby and at the same time, seeing a close parent leaving me. Dad was sad too. It was the second time in my life that I had him cried for me. He cried because he knew how sad I was to lose a baby. He cried because he knew he would not be able to see his grandchild.

The public hospital waiting period was so long that by the time we found a doctor that promised a medication, the tumour had grown as big as 12cm and it was the final stage. Nevertheless, we still did not lose hope. “Cancer is curable,” I kept telling Dad. There were many testimonials in the newspaper that they had been cured from cancer.

Dad found comfort in Christ then. We went to church together. He told me that he liked to listen to the hymns. Hymns soothed him down. He had many church members visiting him and giving him comfort. He saw hope.

It had been a few months and when everyone thought that the medication might be working, we were failed by our assumptions. In October 2007, after my class, I called mom, only to find that dad was hospitalised due to diarrhoea. I visited Dad that evening. Doctor said Dad could be dehydrated and he could recover soon enough. One day, two days, three days… Dad was talking and joking like usual. He looked fine. But doctor said Dad had not recovered fully and need constant checking.

It was Saturday’s morning and I was rushing through my assignment when mom called me. She asked when I would be visiting Dad that day. I could not confirm. “Maybe after lunch. I need to finish this assignment.” Mom hung up the phone. Minutes later, my brother called and asked again when I would be visiting Dad.

“Dad’s been vomiting blood since 7am this morning,” brother said.

“I’ll leave the house now,” I said.

I hung up the phone. My hands were trembling and tears started to stream down my face. I called church and asked pastor to pray for Dad. Then, I quickly drove to the hospital. When I entered dad’s ward, I found him sitting on the armchair, flung by brother on one side and mom on the other. I greeted Dad and he nodded his head and all of a sudden, we heard burping sound and blood poured out from his mouth. Brother wiped it off. Dad vomited continuously and we knew that time was ticking away. Doctor said there was no way to stop the vomiting. Dad’s siblings arrived to give their support. Reverend and Pastor arrived to give their prayers and to baptise dad. We sang the hymn “Amazing Grace”. It struck me that it was all in the plan. It was the hymn that dad, mom and I sung for the two consequent Sundays in church before dad was admitted in the hospital. Everything seemed to be like a coincident. Dad liked that song. I liked that song. It was a comfort for dad to listen to that song again.

Doctor finally came in. He asked my mom, brother and I to go out to have a talk. All I could hear was, “He might not be able to last more than 24 hours.” Mom and I burst crying and doctor asked us to be calm to let him finish. He suggested that we give Dad a dose of morphine and let him sleep away. That was the last thing we could do to make him comfortable or else, the doctor predicted that Dad might be choked and drowned by his own blood in the lung.

When we went into the ward, dad was still vomiting blood. It was a difficult decision for us to make because we did not want to lose him just like that but we also did not want to see him suffering so much of pain. We wanted so much to talk to him. There was still much to say. There was still much to share. But we did not want to see dad suffering in such a way. Mom asked dad whether he wanted a dose of medication for him to sleep. Dad shook his head. He could not talk. He could only shake his limbs. We understood him. We asked him thrice and he rejected us thrice. He wanted to go on. He had the courage to go on. We trusted him. He stopped vomiting. When asked whether he would like Bible read to him, he nodded. I read the Bible to him. He was lying on the bed, relaxing himself as much as he could. It was a good sign. He had his eyes closed. He might have fallen asleep from the tiredness of vomiting. We thought that things had turned out to be fine once again. But it had not!

Mom cried at once when she noticed that dad’s blood pressure was dropping tremendously all of a sudden in the midnight. We called doctor and dad’s siblings immediately. We wanted everyone to be around. We kept calling dad.

“Wake up, dad,” we called.

Dad’s blood pressure went up again. He was listening to us. He was. Brother sat on the right and me on the left of dad. We whispered into Dad’s ears telling him to let go if it was too much for him to bear but if he wanted to strive on, we’ll always be there with him. His blood pressure went up again. I knew it. Dad wanted to strive on. He would not let go so easily. He wanted us to know the message. I hummed the hymn Amazing Grace into his ears. Gradually, we found that his oxygen level and blood pressure were running low. I said, “Dad, are you seeing Jesus? Do you see bright light? Follow Him. Follow the bright light.”

The machine stopped functioning. All of us cried and called Dad. Doctor came in and asked the nurse to use another machine, which was more accurate. It read Dad’s heartbeat. Dad’s heartbeat was very weak. But we saw there was hope. We went on. My brother and I continued to hum the hymn. Dad would be ok, we hoped. But after an hour or two, dad’s heartbeat turned into an almost straight line. We informed the doctor and she came to certify that dad had left us. To hear the words, “He has gone,” was such a heart-breaking news. Those three words had left us mourning for the lost.

Dad had left me. I had lost my compass. He had been my chauffeur. He had been my listener, my counsellor, my advisor and most of all, my dear dad, who took pride in whatever I do. I was left with 2 assignments and presentations and 4 examinations to go. The assignments and presentations were 2 weeks away while the examinations a month away. I wanted to give up. I told my brother I just could not go on. I called my lecturer. I wanted to drop the course. I could not concentrate. But God, in some way, had sent dad’s message once again. “Remember how dad fought till the end.” All of a sudden, I remembered dad’s motto, “Tolerate and have patience with whatever you do. Fight till the end.”

His last breath would not leave me just like that. It should have a great impact on me. I prayed that I could concentrate. So, I did. I did not drop the course. I moved on. I did my presentations, handed in my assignments and took the exams. I finished off my first semester with pride. Yes, dad, I’ll make you proud.

Though Dad had left me, his spirit of “never quitting till the last breath” would be here with me. He had been the wall I always leaned against all the while but now, I have to lean on his words.

2007 had been a traumatic year for me as I lost two of my precious belongings, Dad and my would-be baby. Life still goes on whether we want the day to come or not. Sun still rises and sets.

Amazing Grace

How sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost,

But now am found,

Was blind but now I see.

T’was grace that taught my heart to fear,

And grace my fears relieved;

How precious did that grace appear,

The hour I first believed.