“The key to Immortality is first living a life worth
remembering.”
Some of you might be familiar with this sage advice given by a
legendary father, Bruce Lee. Because of his legendary status, many might be led
to discount its meaning, but on this day of remembrance, I ask you, How will
you be remembered? As a child, I remember my father not being home very much, and
being a bit perturbed about it, but even then I knew him as the quiet, reserved
man of great intellect and skill that many people revered him for. I always
felt he was uncomfortable around children, which seemed kind of strange given
his profession (he delivered babies to put his kids through college and fund
our somewhat fruitless attempts at family businesses), until he met mine. In a
way, I’m a bit jealous because it seems like he was really waiting for the
grandchildren and grooming us to make it happen. It wasn’t until I finished
college that the curtain was thrown back, and revealed to me that my Wizard of
Oz was really human after all. I always respected my father, first because my
mom said so (or else), then later because of the moving litany of how his life was
unfolded to me, and how it ended.
My father was, as most people are in our beloved country, an
immigrant from a far away land, looking for a better place in which to have a
family and future. Many of you may be generations away from the days when homes
had no electricity, air conditioning, indoor plumbing, and hot water bathing.
Going to school barefoot uphill both ways in hand-me-down clothes when you
weren’t doing chores to keep the house together - this was the life of my
parents as children, and I am supremely grateful for the spoils they have given
me here in America. He had to be something of an entrepreneur to afford medical
school, so he would shoot pictures of people with his Kodak Brownie to fund his
expenses. Often he was faced with the choice of riding a jeepney home hungry or
making the long walk home with little or nothing to eat. Whenever I start to
feel sorry for myself, I remember that my parents suffered a lot to get me
indoor plumbing, hot showers, hot food, and air conditioning. It makes me work
smarter to honor his memory.
My father would never take credit for the life he built “by
himself”, because he firmly believed he never would have made it in America
without his beloved wife. They kept each other going and helped each other be
efficient at work and at home. They fought like married couples should – mostly
about the important stuff and never in fear of losing love over a difference of
opinion. Neither would he want to be remembered as a singular entity, because
his wife was together with him in everything, except in dying, for which I am
also grateful, because I don’t think I could bear such a heavy weight on my
heart.
He left this world rather suddenly, and this will be the
second Father’s Day we will celebrate without him in person. His impression is
so deep on me that his spirit carries on, and despite his lengthy illness at
the end of his life, I will always treasure that we were always able to laugh
together like nothing else mattered, because in the end, being together with
your family is all that really matters. Happy Father’s Day, Dad.
I think my own remembrance as “Dad” has the tank at about
half-full. I have been calculating that my kids will be so full of me by the
time they leave the nest, they won’t “need” me at the end of college or
wherever life leads them, because they will be well-trained, well-balanced, and
driven to succeed in whatever vocation they choose.
How will you be remembered?
