I was 21, not even dating, but I was already thinking about my big day. I would use it as an arsenal against my father. It was my summer break, and I was away from home. My mother had just called and told me what my dad said to her. She was hysterical, and I was infuriated. Cell phones were not a thing yet, so I counted up enough coins and head straight to a payphone to make an international phone call. I felt the adrenaline rush to give my father an earful of our joint grievances. I don’t remember what I said exactly, but I will never forget how I ended it.
“YOU WILL NOT WALK ME DOWN THE AISLE ON MY WEDDING DAY! I AM SO ASHAMED OF YOU!”
I said it in Mandarin, but I can only recall it in English.
I was met with a brief silence and then a gut-wrenching sob.
Through the telephone cables across the ocean floor, I heard a grown man weep over his only daughter, rejecting him and cutting him out of what would be the happiest day of her life.
What set me off? My father betrayed my mother, and we were at odds ever since.
I didn’t know they were single parents until I became an adult child. In America, most married couples seek legal separation through a divorce, but my Taiwanese parents simply lived apart. I had naively thought they were still together. I lived with my father during my junior high school years before I immigrated to America at age 15. My mother was already there, taking care of my older brother.
What was a 13-year-old to do when her mother was not around to walk her through the awkwardness of puberty?
One day, I saw an extra-large package of “sanitary napkins” outside my bedroom door. It was probably the biggest bundle my father could find in a 7-Eleven. “This is not the brand Mom used,” I shook my head, thinking to myself. I then quickly grabbed the package and looked to hide it in a room with no closets. Every few months, a package like this would appear in front of my bedroom door. (It’s like Amazon’s Subscribe and Save.) I never had a conversation with my father about it, let alone saying, “thank you.”
After I graduated from junior high school, I moved to New York to live with my mom. In a way, I had pretty much left my dad…for good. Having only one rough canvas carrier purchased from a night market, I had to bring my whole life to America. I even thought about packing my desk lamp. (Ask any studious kid, you will find out how much their desk lamps mean to them.) I then boarded a transatlantic flight, alone, and was shipped abroad.
For the next few years, I would be persuaded, understandably, by my mother to resent my father. My heart grew cold towards the man I once adored.
There were happy days. When I was little, I used to love cuddling between my parents on their queen size mattress. My mother, with her never-ending insecurity, would ask me,
“Who do you love more, Mommy, or Daddy?”
『 妳比較愛誰啊，爸爸還是媽媽？』
It annoyed me whenever my parents treated me like a child. Don’t they know I was, ahem, precocious, and light years ahead of my peers? I refused to fall for such a ruse.
“Both. I love you both!”
『 我都愛啊！』
I was insincere and disingenuous.
Let the truth be told – It had always been my dad. He was the life of the party, fun to be around, and I knew he adored me, too.
While my father could still manage long walks and the stairs, he came to visit me in New York. That was thirteen years ago. My Christian faith compelled me to confront him about his transgression. With a Chinese Bible in hand, I invited him to my son’s bedroom. I asked him to read from Malachi 4:6.
“And he will turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers. Otherwise, I will come and strike the land with a curse.”
『 他 必 使 父 親 的 心 轉 向 兒 女，兒 女 的 心 轉 向 父 親，免 得 我 來 咒 詛 遍 地 。』 (瑪 拉 基 書 4:6)
“Would you consider getting back to Mom?”
It sounded more like a threat and ultimatum. My father’s getting back with my mother would signal a decision to return to me, and his estranged family.
Silence ensued. What happened next would haunt me for the rest of my life.
“Wen Wen, do you know how hard it was for me?” My father’s lip trembled, and he continued, “when your mother took you away from me and moved to America, I was heartbroken and alone. All I had left was my pen and paintbrushes. I sketched the face of you every day…every day! I cried and cried. I was missing you, missing you!”
『 我一直畫，一直畫，我一直哭，一直哭, 一直想妳！一直想妳！ 』
Tears raced down my father’s cheek, and he could barely breathe. It was hard to watch. An avalanche of raw emotions plunged down the memory lane, unhinged, and it was too late to slam on the brake.
As a young adult, I heard my father cry hard over the phone. As a young mother, I saw my father weep hard in front of me.
“I regretted every day for what happened. When your mother left, I had no one to turn to. In my lowest point, Ah-shen came along to care for me. Recently, she told me to go back to your mom, and that’s why I am here. I tried. I tried to find that connection, but I just can’t. Your mom made it so difficult.”
I know they tried. I heard giggles and whispers late into the night under the dimmed light. Seeing my parents relate in such an intimate way, I had butterflies in my stomach. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder whether my dad had committed infidelity again. After all, he had been with Ah-shen for more than twenty years.
I had prayed since I was thirteen for my parents to get back together. If God is powerful, He surely can answer my prayers. I had never let go of that hope. I was idealistic and full of faith.
My father is now 86, and my mother 82. By the mercy of God, both are healthy. My father lives in Taipei, and my mother lives in Houston. They have not been affected by the pandemic as they live in their homes, not nursing homes.
There were days when I thought my mother’s dementia was a gift. I had hoped as her memory began to erode, it would erase the most painful part of her past. However, dementia only makes her forget what she eats for breakfast; it does not erase the scars of losing her husband to someone else.
I have long moved on from feeling resentment towards my father. As a matter of fact, I am grateful. Who is taking care of my aging father? Ah-shen never had the legitimacy of the marriage but had given the best of her life to him.
A few years ago, my father gifted my mother a two-story condo in a desirable part of suburban Houston, a form of reparation.
My father did walk me down the aisle on my wedding day. I still remember the sparks in his eyes and the wonder on his face when he saw me dressed as a bride. The awkward young teen had suddenly become a woman. By the grace of God, he was forgiven in time to…give me away.
Good story. Very Nicely written.
You were a very beautiful bride, and your dad was s distinguished looking man!
Stephen Au
I loved your story.