8 8

Father's Day, today.

Eight is pronounced 'ba' here, and hence the eighth day of the eighth month (8 8 ba ba, like 'papa' 爸爸) is Father's Day in Taiwan.

On the bus ride home, the streets seemed to be paved with gold. Dazzling street lights, colourful neon lights and decorative lights on buildings, bridges and sidewalks paint the city at night into a city of life. Cars and buses passed silently by my window, as I stared outside. Taipei...
the place I grew up in...the place I will always return to, and find home.

Why home? Because my dad lives here, because my mum lives here.
Though in different places.

Dad and I had dinner at a steak-buffet restaurant. Eat as much as you want for little money. Dad looked smart today, more so than usual. We sat down and waited for our steaks to arrive, but it never did. In the meanwhile, we had various side dishes and drinks, and had stories of my trip down south to pass the time. He listened, and commented from time to time. Whenever he got up, I would look at him, at his frail and thin body, as he went around collecting all sorts of foods. Silently I thought, as I saw the kinds of greasy and unhealthy things he was stuffing onto his plate, this is no good for his health.

In the weekend, I visited the hospital he frequents almost weekly. I wasn't sure the doctors would tell me dad's health conditions, but I was willing to take a chance. Better to do so, than to go on not knowing what is hurting him so. Dad would never tell me upfront. Each time I ask, he would say he's doing well, and that all's well. But each time I see him (and I notice because I don't see him regularly) he is thinner, and more dark-faced than the previous time. Sure sign that things are not as well as he says...

Surprisingly, the doctors were very open and friendly, and gave me a few moments to explain dad's illnesses. It's probably worse than expected, and dad's had a few operations to remove cancerous cells on his lever. However, there's more. The doctors dare not operate any more, out of fear that things may get worse. I listened solemnly. Outisde the sun was shining, almost moccking. The doctors reassured me the situation is now stable, and all else depends on how well dad looks after himself. Whatsmore, he needs the support of family at this critical stage, or else his condition will never improve. A slash across my heart...

We sat in the restaurant, talking and eating. Dad seemed forever hungry, and went to fetch many more plates, even though I was already very full. In the end I only had fruits... those bitter, sour, sweet flavours of fruits, flavours so representative of life! Flavours so similar to those of human emotions!

As we walked towards his apartment, I told him about my visit. For a while dad was silent. I told him sooner or later I have to know. He seemed to be ashamed of his illnesses, and on numerous occassions told mum not to reveal anything to me. He walked beside him, the cool evening breeze, cicaccas calling on bayun trees, cars flashing by, pedestrians appearing and disappering all around us. A typical summer's night. For a while the world stood silent, as I told dad how much so many care and worry about him. How much I care about him. I stood tall above him, and for the first time noticed how much I have grown. For the first time, I noticed a tuft of white hair on dad's usually thick black hair. My proposed stay until November is not without reason.

As I recalled my travels down south, my visits to the temples and prayers before gods, tears wallowed, and my voice wavered.

On the bus home, alone, the street outside glistened. As I boarded the bus, the roar of the engine drowned the words 'Happy Father's Day'. The bus pulled away, while a dark silhoute stood on the street. Did he wave? Did he watch the bus until it disappeared amid the thousands of twinkling tail lights on the street? Did dad watch, and think 'There goes my son' ? I hope he heard my father's day blessing, just before I was swallowed whole by the bus.

On the bus, a son sat and thought about the night before. He sat on the bus and looked back at many nights that have gone before, at the many summers, many winters that have silently and unconsciously passed. He rode the bus, which went further and further away from his dad.
The bus just drove on, and never looked back...

Happy Father's Day to all dads out there.
Happy Father's Day to one dad especially.

Mine.