STAND BY ME (In memory of my father) by Vincent Chen
“When the night has come, And the land is dark, And the moon is the only light we’ll see. No, I won’t be afraid, no I won’t be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me.”
Did you play this song in your wedding ceremony as Harry and Meghan did? Please think about it if you are not married yet.
Well, don’t you think we are blessed if we have someone who always stands by us in our life. For me, it was my father.
My father was a short and boring man, and you can see him in me. But he was gentle and patient. I am lucky because I have a tiger mom already.
I spent my childhood in a special period of time --- the Chinese cultural revolution. Even though the whole country was in a state of chaos, I was light-hearted. I played with a group of my neighbourhood kids every day. Since I was the youngest, it was taken for granted that I should follow their orders.
One day, a man and a woman were paraded through a street for adultery as a punishment. “Shame!” People along the street shouted and threw spit balls, rags, and even pebbles towards them. My neighbourhood kids were excited, and I was ordered to do the same. Feeling sorry for the two people, I stood there motionless. Then, I was punished.
My father found the bruise on my hand and learned about the truth. In his insistence, the boy who punished me apologized reluctantly in his father’s presence. I can’t tell you whether my father was defending me or my right to keep away from mob violence, but at least I learned to keep a sober mind and a kind heart during those crazy times.
It’s always gratifying to recall the dramatic changes China experienced in the late 1970’s, followed by a period called “reform and openness”. It seemed all of a sudden, I realized that my future was in my own hands. I was no longer the boy whom the teachers had to throw a piece of chalk to remind me to pay attention, instead, I turned to be the one in my family of four siblings who was most willing to show off their marks.
On one occasion, my Mandarin teacher asked me to read an article of mine titled “my father” in front of the class. I had written it so vividly that I even depicted the involuntary quivering of my father’s lips in his agitation. Since my father was also our math teacher, it’s not hard to imagine that my classmates found it amusing to imitate his lips twitching.
At the dinner table, my little brother who was also in the same school complained that his classmates laughed at him because of me. “Shut up.” I stopped him, worrying that my father would blame me. Did I mention that my father was not good at words? But the smile in his eyes told me everything: he was proud I did so well with my article!
Like a young bird flying away from its nest, I left my hometown and went further and further away. Unlike his standing by my side when I was young, I could only talk to him on the phone or show him a smile online most of the time afterwards. “I am so busy.”, I told him.
One day, I received a call from my brother, telling me that my father was sick. “The doctor said he has only three months left.” I had never thought that something I took for granted would be gone one day, and it came so quickly.
My father was as calm as ever when he saw me, but he insisted sitting around the dinner table with us even though he could eat nothing. In the days remained, I wheeled him along the alleys filled with my childhood memories; we sat on the beach listening to the tide, throwing pebbles to the sea childishly; we visited the island where he used to teach, and I was told where his ex-girlfriend lived.
Finally, my father left. Life is a one-way journey. When we strive to run forward, focusing on the target in the distance, we often forget to appreciate the scenery on the way, often forget to cherish the people around us.
Since I am getting old myself, I come to understand more about life and death. I no longer wake up from a nightmare of my parents’ pass away, wet with tears; I find myself relying more on the photos to recall the sweet moments, which seem to be so far away. But I would always argue the pain did not dissipate in the air like dust, it was seared deep inside.
Father, if you can still hear me, I want to sing the song once more, to tell you how much I care about you, how much I love you.