Inspiration: This week's piece originated as a blog post that didn't go as planned. I still loved parts of what I wrote, so I decided to weave those words into this memoir.
Timing: I initially drafted the blog post 1-2 weeks ago and edited it over the course of a few days. I re-visited my writing for this memoir on Tue Jul 30, and the final version of this piece was published on 52 Memoirs the same day.
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Reflection: I am so pleased that I was able to weave some of my previous writing into this memoir. I changed a lot more than I expected, but I'm happy with the end result. It reflects my story, my perspective, and my appreciation for my father. Writing this piece was a very cathartic experience, and I feel closer to my father as a result.
Timing: I initially drafted the blog post 1-2 weeks ago and edited it over the course of a few days. I re-visited my writing for this memoir on Tue Jul 30, and the final version of this piece was published on 52 Memoirs the same day.
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I was raised by my father. As the strong-willed daughter of a strong-willed man, it was often difficult to bridge the gap between our many differences. Our relationship risked being torn apart by a gender gap, a generation gap, and a cultural gap. I resented my father's controlling nature, and he resented not being able to control me. It should come as no surprise that my father and I had a tumultuous relationship. With
our disagreements growing more and more intense as I got older, I am
often surprised that our clashes did not result in irreparable damage.
Growing up, I didn't understand why my father had to work so much. He would go to the office all day, every day. He would work late into the evening, while I played with Barbies, read books, and watched Jeopardy -- all by myself. I resented his absence. I resented his uncaring demeanor. Most of all, I resented him for putting me second. It was only years later that I understood. He always put me first.
I was two years old when my parents decided to separate. My mother wanted to return to Hong Kong, but my father asked to raise me, so I could have access to more opportunities and a better future in Canada. One brief moment. One brave request. One difficult decision. It altered the course of my entire life. What would my life had been like if I had been raised in Hong Kong? What would I be like if I had been raised by my mother? I'll never know the answers to these questions.
There is no doubt in my mind that my father worked long hours to advance his career, but he also worked to provide for me. I benefited so much from his care -- I always had food and shelter, I traveled regularly as a child, and I got the occasional treat as well. My father's stoicism was a byproduct of his culture, his upbringing, and his circumstances. With hindsight, I can see that I benefited from this as well -- I had ample time to use my imagination, I became incredibly introspective, and I learned to be fiercely independent.
Time always brings new perspective, and I think I now understand a little more about my father. He must have felt lonely at times, raising this disobedient and rebellious girl on his own for over a decade. He needed an outlet. He needed to work. He needed to cope. He needed to not care. At the same time, I think I now understand a little more about myself as well. I owe my freedom to my father's hard work. I owe my compassion to his stoicism. I am grateful to have been raised by this complex man, who made a brave request when it mattered.
Growing up, I didn't understand why my father had to work so much. He would go to the office all day, every day. He would work late into the evening, while I played with Barbies, read books, and watched Jeopardy -- all by myself. I resented his absence. I resented his uncaring demeanor. Most of all, I resented him for putting me second. It was only years later that I understood. He always put me first.
I was two years old when my parents decided to separate. My mother wanted to return to Hong Kong, but my father asked to raise me, so I could have access to more opportunities and a better future in Canada. One brief moment. One brave request. One difficult decision. It altered the course of my entire life. What would my life had been like if I had been raised in Hong Kong? What would I be like if I had been raised by my mother? I'll never know the answers to these questions.
There is no doubt in my mind that my father worked long hours to advance his career, but he also worked to provide for me. I benefited so much from his care -- I always had food and shelter, I traveled regularly as a child, and I got the occasional treat as well. My father's stoicism was a byproduct of his culture, his upbringing, and his circumstances. With hindsight, I can see that I benefited from this as well -- I had ample time to use my imagination, I became incredibly introspective, and I learned to be fiercely independent.
Time always brings new perspective, and I think I now understand a little more about my father. He must have felt lonely at times, raising this disobedient and rebellious girl on his own for over a decade. He needed an outlet. He needed to work. He needed to cope. He needed to not care. At the same time, I think I now understand a little more about myself as well. I owe my freedom to my father's hard work. I owe my compassion to his stoicism. I am grateful to have been raised by this complex man, who made a brave request when it mattered.
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Reflection: I am so pleased that I was able to weave some of my previous writing into this memoir. I changed a lot more than I expected, but I'm happy with the end result. It reflects my story, my perspective, and my appreciation for my father. Writing this piece was a very cathartic experience, and I feel closer to my father as a result.