My father was a man who cared for his family. He cared many times but when his anger got the better of him, he lashed out on the one closest to him—which was usually my mother, my brother, or me. Since it was mostly unexpected, my brother or I would just stay in the same position we were in previously for a few seconds before turning our back to him and curling into a ball. Usually they would last a few minutes so thankfully there were no bruises; he even did it one time when some of our family members came by for a visit. Though, as the years passed, his physical strength weakened.
Since he was diabetic, my mother would work while he was a stay-at-home dad. Those five years were something to adjust to as a child, from second to sixth grade. Over the course of one year, I would remember what happened—as a outgoing child, that was obvious to a serious preteen. Who would be serious if your father was diabetic, constantly needing your assistance, making you worry when he stayed overnight at hospitals, your brother not even bothering to help at times, and finally your mother working twelve hours a day, six days a week? I mean, who wouldn’t?
That day he passed away was very unexpected: cardiac arrest. He had two more previously, making this his third. The day was so eventful—so joyful at first, but then again, god reminds you of what you have in life.
I woke up around 9 or 10 a.m. and remembered that I had to go over to my cousin’s to fix his Internet, so I woke up my dad after I put my clothes on. He said to not wake him up, but I was persistent to make him get out of his bed. Though before we took off, Mom wanted us to move the furniture in the living room—all four of us had trouble since the couch was so large in size. Then, as soon we left and once I got out of the car, I said, “Daddy, see you soon!” and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He said, “Call me when you when want to come home.”
(Note that some of the dialect was in Chinese.)
It wasn’t until we arrived at the restaurant for lunch that with our other family members—almost twenty of us in total … that was when he was quiet, barely speaking unless necessary. After that, us kids—about six—went swimming with some of the adults while the rest either went grocery shopping or did something of their own.
Around 5 p.m., all of us went back to my house for a party that lasted for a few hours until tragedy struck.
It was dessert time; it’s always a sweet time, right? Wrong! Before he could even touch his ice cream and apple pie, my father had a heart attack. Time: 9:30 p.m.-ish.
