My Pops

(June 21, 2009)

I have a very faint memory of my dad. Sundays at Chinatown. Coffee at Hilton, Burger for me. The smell of his office from the boxes of auto spare parts coming from the storage. His smoking and changing brands as a sign of his wanting to hold back his smoking. The temper typical of a Chinese dad, or at least, what I thought was typical of Chinese men.

Oh, the Racetrack where he brought me and my brother, he wouldn’t choose the horse number I preferred, mine won.

And the Chinese temple.

I faintly remember how proud he was when I became a manager at a local fastfood.

Faint, still. I wish I can recall all the vivid details of every moment spent with him.

And how in time, I slowly somehow, unconsciously veered away from him. I won’t come with him to eat out, or simply won’t do anything with him.

I grew up. The youngest of four siblings grew up.

Twelve years ago, he left. No goodbyes. Just left without saying a word. I was at work when he left and he was gone when I got home. Not a word.

It was painful. I wanted him back but it’s too late.

Twelve years after, I still miss him. I still wake up in the middle of the night missing him. I miss my dad.

So much.

He left the family but not too soon, he waited until everyone was old enough to live without him. He prepped us for a good future. He and my mom.

He left and went up to heaven. No phone patch, No internet connection. No SMS.

I miss him.


About +daddy+drEw+

HIV awareness and treatment Advocate & Activist. Living with HIV since 2007. A friend. A partner. A dad to the HIV Community.
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