It doesn’t take much. A quick thought; a small memory; a reminder of where I’m from. It doesn’t take much for me to feel every emotion rush to my eyes that then smile with pride, while tearing up over lost time. Every memory leads to a story over someone truly wonderful and giving and wise.
No one person is perfect, that’s just not a thing. But he shined in his imperfections like every star that fills the night sky. He was and is my star, and even though he’s gone, he’s never left me or my family behind. The pride I have over his name, his voice, his fight and his smile is what solidifies my strength, my kindness, my mind and my story. He held tradition high, yet could step back to make criticism over the wrong doing of a country. He may have missed many family dinners, but he was busy working three jobs to spread food amongst all the tables. He may have broken my heart the day he didn’t come home, but he’s helped it grow every day since he passed.
In a time where people are hateful towards fellow humans; judgmental over skin color or gender or love choices; and ignorant towards refugees, immigrants, and minorities — All I can say is that my father was an Asian man; He was stateless at one point and an immigrant a few times over; He washed dishes throughout med school and helped so many when needed. My father epitomizes what so many are fearful of, and that carries on in me and my siblings. He was my father on earth and my angel since June 8, 1992. And so every year I re-introduce my father to you, because his story is ongoing and we’ll never let it stop.
Dad – as with every day that passes, I love and miss you, now and always xoxo
Love from, Vic Louise xoxoxo