"家"

I often find myself returning to this subject, and often for the same reasons -- to discuss my deepest gratitude towards my parents, to express this immense pride that I have to have come from my family, which I can't seem to openly communicate to them.

I guess communication, especially with my dad, faltered ever since some dramatic episodes during high school that were mainly caused by my first "boyfriend," aka first super-douchebag-experience-that-fucked-up-my-grades-and-made-me-a-mess. It's not easy to maintain the same relationship between daughter and father after he discovers the details on how you lost your virginity, having a pregnancy scare and just how much of a shithead the boy really was. It can't be easy having two daughters 12 years apart -- raising one to tweenage chaos and then having to start all over again.

I seem to find myself in these weird situations with my dad. My mom got upset at me one time, claiming that he found a (unused) condom in his car after letting me borrow the car. I walked in my house one day and saw a green condom in its wrapper lying on the kitchen counter. Talk about passive aggressive. Imagine what I must've been thinking. I denied to my death that it belonged to me (because it didn't), but I was never sure if he believed me. My mom didn't seem to. To this day, I still don't know which fucker friend of mine left it in there and never owned up to it. I didn't get in trouble, but that was one of several awkward confrontations I've run into with my dad -- such as the other time when my mom found a condom wrapper in my bathroom and proceeded to sit me down in front of the both of them: "Chieh, I'm very glad that you and Kevin care very much for each other and that you are safe. But please, do not do it in our house." And that was that.

When it comes to the subject of sex, my dad never speaks a word. He neither approves or disapproves. He just sits in silence, most likely pained and broken hearted by having to confront the fact that I do what I do. Since the high school episode, he hasn't warmed up to any of my boyfriends except for Kevin. It took him over two years to reach that point.

If I really think about it, I don't know much about my dad. I've heard of his crazy party days back in the 80's and how he immediately took to quit drinking and smoking shortly after my birth. I know he's worked incredibly hard my whole life, never forgetting to bring me presents on every business trip until I was thirteen -- CD's, VCD's, hair bands, jewelry, stuffed animals, comics, and any obsession that I maintained at that point. I know that he specifically waited until I was done with middle school to move our family to America, simply because I asked him to. I also know that he was an incredibly fun and humorous man when I was younger, always full of (slightly inappropriate) jokes and air-tosses until I started weighing too much. I'm not really sure when exactly this all changed. I occasionally witness parts of his inner clown surface, more often in large social gatherings, but apart from that, he seems to remain (at least to me) an incredibly serious and stern figure. He lightens up so much more around my younger sister, and it's those times that I'm so glad he has her around.

It scares me that he's 60. It scares me that my grandparents are all 80+, and that I've probably only seen them a handful of times in the past 10 years. It scares me that I don't feel like I know him as well as I should, that we can't get over this barrier we both seem to have in communicating emotions with each other. I don't know when I last told him, "I love you."



I ought to go home more. I ought to spend more time with them and my little sister, instead of constantly being around friends and continually embarking on global adventures that my parents always so unselfishly support. I know I'm not giving enough or trying enough, and I'm not okay with that. I owe them too much, and I'm capable of doing so much. I just don't know why it's so difficult to change.

Well, whatever it is, I'm changing it. People may say that it's never too late, but at a certain point, it will be. It will be, and I will find myself back in my shoes when I was 10, incessantly beating myself up for the next decade plus for not having spent more time trying to take care of and know my grandfather better. Those lessons should only be learned once.

Life is too short to be afraid.