Dream

My father passed away this January. Ever since I’ve been having this reoccurring dream.

In the dream, I was sitting on the sofa in my parent’s living room. The TV was on; I was flipping the channels to see if there was a show worth watching. It was mid-afternoon in late October 2001. I just got back home from Hefei where my husband had been living. Yes, you can see, we didn’t live in the same city. The distance between these two cities is like from Montreal to Quebec City. Normally, my husband would be back and forth between these two cities on the weekend. But since I’d already quitted my job, I went to live with my husband for almost 2 months. It was the first time I left my parent’s sight for over a week.

Fairly said, I never left my parent’s home. Unlike so much peer students who left home to go to college, I went to a college in my hometown. And after I graduated I got a job in a local bank working as an accountant. Only 15 minutes away from home on foot. (How great was that!) Even after I got married to my husband I still lived with my parents. We didn’t move in because we couldn’t decide which way to go: to immigrant to Canada or I quit my job to move to his city? It was a hard decision. We had to weigh both the pros and cons.

2001 is the life changing year for me. Luckily, we were accepted as permanent residence by immigration Canada. Even more luckily, my husband got a job offer from a Canadian company. We were elated. The date we had set to leave the country was December 31 2001, the last day of the year. However it also meant it was only two months left for me to be with my parents. To live in a lifestyle I was so used to, a lifestyle I thought I would never lose, dinner sitting on the table whenever I came home from work, father would be always sitting in front of TV, sipping his tea, occasionally, making a comment about the show, and I would rush him to go watch TV in their bedroom. So I can be left alone to enjoy my favorite show. He would always pretend to be mad, murmuring “a grown daughter doesn’t need father’s company.” While he was on his feet, picking up his tea, retiring to his room. I knew his pretence because his smiling eyes let out the truth.

Go back to the dream. I was sitting in my favorite spot on the sofa, flipping the channels. I heard the doorknob turned. Then the front door swung open. Father was entering the room.  Putting down his tea bottle on the dining table, following the TV sound, he turned his head, saw me, contented smile illumined his face at once. “You are back. How much I missed you!” in my entire life I never heard my parents say they miss me except this time, I was gladly embarrassed, and equally surprised. In Chinese culture, parents don’t express their emotions verbally. Love is wordless motion. Parental-child bond is a genuine part of nature. Even without word, the care and reliability in it make their children understand and appreciate.

We didn’t talk much when he was alive. We didn’t even get to sit down and have a face to face conversation the last time we went home to visit. I was busy shopping, visiting friends and dining out. I thought we had plenty time. We could always take a walk next time. I could bring him to Canada to see where I live next time. I could tell him how much I missed him next time. But there is no next time. We run out of time. He’s gone. I lost him forever.

I burst awake in the middle of the night. A profound sadness immersed me. A tight feeling in my chest, Tears raced into my eyes. I pulled up the blanket to stifle sobs. My husband lay besides me, sound asleep.