Hao-Zhong Dai

My dad was the favorite child of my grandpa who was a successful private doctor in Shanghai during an interesting time. My dad grew up with many different friends, including a lot of Jews and Japanese. He went to a Catholic school, was a smart yet naughty boy. He was a school bully that was molded more of Robin Hood. He spent more of his time playing basketball than studying, a zeal that he kept well into old ages; albeit he was then watching NBA on TV instead of playing the game himself. He had to transfer many schools throughout his elementary and high schools. He had a major change of heart and became an avid student when he entered college. He was the only straight-A student of his class, which he later said would have surprised all of his elementary and high school teachers. After graduating from the prestigious Shanghai Foreign Language Institute, which is now known as Shanghai International Studies University, he began a long career of teaching university English, with a specialty in grammar and linguistics. He became a professor at an early age, which was a rarity in China back then. In 1985, he came to the U.S., with mom and me joining him two years later. He studied linguistics at Rice University in Houston, and taught English at Houston Community College. As America finally afforded him the freedom he dearly missed in China, he decided to change career in mid life and went into mortgage business, and became probably the first Chinese mortgage broker in Houston. During the economic downturn of the early 90's, dad changed his career yet again, and went into restaurant business at the age of 56 without any prior experience. He spent next eight years trying to turn around a failing restaurant in a small Texas town, which he termed the Eight Years' War of Resistance.

With the birth of my first son, Alex, dad decided it was time to change again. Wanting to spend more time with his grandson and later grandsons, he sold his restaurant three years later when my second son was born. Yet dad was still not ready to retire. So he went through various adventures of online business during the dot com boom. But by then he experienced some heart issues, which led him to take a break in life. He spent the next 10 years traveling around China and Southeast Asia, visiting obscure places (at least by my standard) such as Cambodia and Lao, all by himself and without any tour guides. We finally convinced him to settle down and move to San Diego with us. Mom and dad bought a small house in Rancho Bernardo, and dad spent a lot of time refurbishing the place to get ready for his final retirement.

Dad was diagnosed with late stage stomach cancer in 2013, a few months after he moved into his new house. He was shocked yet laughed it off as he said he had no regret in life. He did however go through active treatment. Despite the fact that the doctor gave him only 6 months to live, and in life's many mysteries or miracles, he was in complete remission for almost two years, only to have it reoccur about six months ago. And this time along came severe symptoms of increased GI obstruction. He was not able to eat properly. By December dad started to lose weight, and in January he was hospitalized due to a hip fracture caused by a fall. That was the last time he saw an NBA game from his own home.

Dad was a true scholar in the sense that he spent more time in his university office than at home. Growing up I spent considerably more time with my mom than with my dad. Despite his not spending enough time with me, the time we spent together was filled with fun memories. He later regretted not spending enough time with me, and instructed me to not make the same mistake with my own sons. After dad was hospitalized in January, I visited him almost every day and sometimes multiple times a day. I probably spent more time with my dad during the last 3 months than any other period of my life. How I wish that could be in a different circumstance.

The night before he passed away I visited the hospital in the morning for a conference with the nurse and the social worker. As work got busy after I went back to office, I thought about skipping the usual night visit. Fortunately I felt compelled to keep my nightly visit, as I did not tell him during my morning visit that I wouldn't go that night. I knew he would be waiting. So I made my night trip, and that was the last time I saw my dad.

He was pale and weak, yet his mind was still sharp. He was happy to see me there, as it meant I would sneak him a drink of soda which the nurses refused to do. There was a problem with the equipment at hospital, which meant any drinking would require extra manual work from the nurses. As I have become an expert in operating various equipments hooked up to my dad, I was able to give him a drink of soda during my visits while the nurse turned a blind eye. But this night he was not as eager to drink. Instead of asking for a second, he paused several times and didn't finish the first. I asked him if he needed a shave or help in clipping his nails. He declined, and told me he would do it himself later. I tried to massage his feet and hands, as he was cold and rigid. I tried to hold on to his pinkie finger, like he forced me to do when I was just a little kid. He used to tease me that my baby hand only deserved the pinkie finger of an adult hand. And he would switch to another finger if I protested.

I left after he finished most of his drink, and told him I would come back to see him the next night. He nodded. Sadly, that was the last time I saw my dad alive. Dad passed away in his sleep over night, somewhere between 4 and 4:30am.

As my dad died, a part of me also died. His passing away was expected, yet also sudden. Despite all the indications, we were not ready. I was not ready to feel the quietness. I was not ready to not having someone bugging me every so often. As a typical Chinese parent, dad made a habit of criticizing his only son. How I wish he could be here now to bug me one more time. Yet dad was also much Americanized. For a Chinese parent, he gave me a lot of freedom, and respected my decisions. I recall one day when I was in my early twenties and hadn’t yet finished my bachelor’s degree, he told me that from that day on he would treat me as an adult, meaning he would continue to advise me but would no longer overrule any of my decisions. He has kept his promise ever since. I picked my own graduate school and I picked my own career, though I continued to seek his advice as late as my last job change in 2007.

Dad was a good man with a good heart. He enjoyed friends, and was always eager to help. He loved to travel, and enjoyed playing practical jokes. He was passionate about basketball, and even stroke friendship with hospital nurses due to their shared admiration of LeBron James. He loved food, though he considered only Chinese food could be called food. He was a very opinionated person, yet he had tons of friends. Many staff at the hospital, from doctors to nurses, aids to janitors, recognized my dad distinctly and often passed by his room intentionally to say hi. He was able to name a list of about 20 hospital staffs and tell me their strength and weakness in nursing skills. I guess he still had the professorship in him even in those last days.

My dad always said I was filial, yet not obedient. In those last days, I struggled to show obedience, as it was not my nature. I often told my dad that such fault of mine was due to genetics. There were many ups and downs during my dad's struggle with illness. I had more than once prayed for God's mercy, and promised to spend more time to share the Gospel with my dad. Yet I was reluctant as I didn't want to spend the last days arguing with my dad. I knew it was a big shock to him when I became a Christian last May. He did not attend my baptism, but I sent him my testimony in email anyway. I hope it made a difference in his heart.

Dad died peacefully in his sleep. Despite the seriousness of his illness, he experienced no pain during his last months. If anything, he was in more mental anguish than physical pain. If I have any regret, I’d say I wish I could have convinced him to take that leap of faith.

I told my dad at his death bed after his passing that I wish to see him again and wanted him to hold on to whatever he still might be able to grasp. I pray there is heaven. I pray there is a spiritual world. I pray my dad's soul is in heaven waiting for me. I pray I would be able to meet him again, maybe strike another argument with my dad - see, I told you there was heaven.

As my uncle said, he shall always treasure my dad's laughter during his visit here last summer. We shall not dwell on the sadness, but cherish the good memories. And let us not forget there is everlasting life, if only you choose to believe.