My parents have been married for 45 years and that’s a long time. My mom had a rough childhood. She spilled it out when I was in California for the first week before the funeral and I was deeply sadden hearing the childhood of my mother.
I tell you that because of what my dad said to my mom after finding about her pain.
When my dad married my mom, he knew of her past and said, “I will be your true father, mother, brother, and lover.”
I wept at that promise. There's not too many men like my dad today: a man who would see the need of his bride and be everything for her. To make up, heal and atone for some of the past - my dad would take what was empty and fill it again. He was like a painter collecting colors and re-painting a sad grey world making it new once more.
I always thought I was different from my dad - I thought my dad was those silent type - working hard, quiet and deeply personal contrast that with me: outgoing, talkative and openly affectionate.
As a child I didn't recall too many times seeing my parents show affection, but it wasn't until dad passed away that I heard about the first love letters between my father and mother. My mother found it in a wooden box - the letters were yellowed and tattered. My father kept those letters for over forty years. Apparently he was the romantic. I couldn't read it because it was written in Chinese, but holding those letters my eyes welled up with tears - the heart of my dad was inked on the pages
I held the letters, but he was gone. There's so much more to the depth of this man that I never knew - he shared a commitment and love for my mother that was to a degree I was about to explore as a husband to my wife.
My mother reminded me, "Honor your father's memory by loving your wife."
Jan 28, 2010
Jan 11, 2010
...sighs
During the funeral planning, my wife came up to me in tears and told me we lost a son.
We would have had a boy. A boy that would have brought a lot of tears and happiness to my dad. I so wanted to place my son into his lap and let my baby gaze at his grandfather. Now, both are gone.
It's just another piece of the puzzle that dropped into a cloudy picture.
Man, it's heavy - lose a girl, a boy, and now a father.
We would have had a boy. A boy that would have brought a lot of tears and happiness to my dad. I so wanted to place my son into his lap and let my baby gaze at his grandfather. Now, both are gone.
It's just another piece of the puzzle that dropped into a cloudy picture.
Man, it's heavy - lose a girl, a boy, and now a father.
Jan 9, 2010
...say what you can
This is much harder than I ever imagined.
...please do say the things to appreciate your parents while they are live.
My deepest desires is one more minute.
One more minute to say, "I love you so much, and I'm so proud to be your son."
One more minute to embrace him, "You'll always be my first hero."
One more minute to say, "You were a good father."
***
We really don't say "I love you" to to those around us enough.
Strangely, how God says it a lot and we're so far like Him with our clouded views of one another.
***
I love you.
...please do say the things to appreciate your parents while they are live.
My deepest desires is one more minute.
One more minute to say, "I love you so much, and I'm so proud to be your son."
One more minute to embrace him, "You'll always be my first hero."
One more minute to say, "You were a good father."
***
We really don't say "I love you" to to those around us enough.
Strangely, how God says it a lot and we're so far like Him with our clouded views of one another.
***
I love you.
Since some have asked....
FRANK H. H. WONG
Memorial service of a beloved father, husband and American
Friday Evening: January 15th
Viewing at Price Funeral Home
Price Funeral Home
6335 Sunrise Boulevard
Citrus Heights, CA 95610-5999
(916) 725-2109
Saturday 10am: January 16th
Price Funeral Home
6335 Sunrise Boulevard
Citrus Heights, CA 95610-5999
(916) 725-2109
After Service -
Grave site 11:30am
Luncheon
Grace Bible Church -
6724 Palm Avenue, Fair Oaks, CA
(916) 967-3915
Memorial service of a beloved father, husband and American
Friday Evening: January 15th
Viewing at Price Funeral Home
Price Funeral Home
6335 Sunrise Boulevard
Citrus Heights, CA 95610-5999
(916) 725-2109
Saturday 10am: January 16th
Price Funeral Home
6335 Sunrise Boulevard
Citrus Heights, CA 95610-5999
(916) 725-2109
After Service -
Grave site 11:30am
Luncheon
Grace Bible Church -
6724 Palm Avenue, Fair Oaks, CA
(916) 967-3915
Jan 6, 2010
My dad's sacrifices
I woke overcome with grief. Didn't cry last night trying to get a flight out, but flights are all booked out on Southwest, and there's a snowstorm rolling in the middle of the week.
My father died before I could reach him.
I look back at my father's life, though a private man, he was one who truly 'squeezed out every resource' he had.
• I remember as a teenager I would be embarassed walking with my dad because he never bought new clothes for himself simply because he didn't have a 'dad budget' because he had three kids. My dad had a pair of jeans hanging on his closet that he wore for over twenty years. It wasn't designer jeans, it was KMART. It had specks of white paint from old house projects.
Now as I look back he sacrificed everything for his family and he didn't care how people looked at him. I'm sure he was hurt by the snide comments, but my dad never whined about not having enough money, or being a victim.
• Even on our trip out he was giving us money to fly out and fly back, even when we had money to cover. He was giving generous amounts - saving every bit to give to his children. Now as I look back my dad scraped every penny as a janitor, but gave with a millionaire's hand. Michele and I were astounded by his giving during Christmas.
• I remember as a kid whining about toys I didn't get not realizing my dad had a monthly take home pay of $700.00 per month for a family of five. Somehow, my dad was able to pull out toys still and as a child I never missed a thing.
• My dad didn't say much but he would watch the Billy Graham crusade, which gave me a spiritual jump in life. I didn't know my father's faith, but he watched Billy preach a lot and as I look back that was truly something he passed on that will last forever.
I miss him so much now, but I believe I'll see my dad again. This life that is visible isn't the end.
Whatever perspectives we may have of our parents, the moment they leave when you recount their lives you will regret moments of not acknowledging them for what they are and were. I'm grateful I have a wedding album of my father smiling at my wedding - it was the response to my thankfulness for him. His eyes were beaming with pride and joy. He never looked happier.
My father died before I could reach him.
I look back at my father's life, though a private man, he was one who truly 'squeezed out every resource' he had.
• I remember as a teenager I would be embarassed walking with my dad because he never bought new clothes for himself simply because he didn't have a 'dad budget' because he had three kids. My dad had a pair of jeans hanging on his closet that he wore for over twenty years. It wasn't designer jeans, it was KMART. It had specks of white paint from old house projects.
Now as I look back he sacrificed everything for his family and he didn't care how people looked at him. I'm sure he was hurt by the snide comments, but my dad never whined about not having enough money, or being a victim.
• Even on our trip out he was giving us money to fly out and fly back, even when we had money to cover. He was giving generous amounts - saving every bit to give to his children. Now as I look back my dad scraped every penny as a janitor, but gave with a millionaire's hand. Michele and I were astounded by his giving during Christmas.
• I remember as a kid whining about toys I didn't get not realizing my dad had a monthly take home pay of $700.00 per month for a family of five. Somehow, my dad was able to pull out toys still and as a child I never missed a thing.
• My dad didn't say much but he would watch the Billy Graham crusade, which gave me a spiritual jump in life. I didn't know my father's faith, but he watched Billy preach a lot and as I look back that was truly something he passed on that will last forever.
I miss him so much now, but I believe I'll see my dad again. This life that is visible isn't the end.
Whatever perspectives we may have of our parents, the moment they leave when you recount their lives you will regret moments of not acknowledging them for what they are and were. I'm grateful I have a wedding album of my father smiling at my wedding - it was the response to my thankfulness for him. His eyes were beaming with pride and joy. He never looked happier.
Jan 5, 2010
My dad
I am reminded of the sincerity of my father. I never doubted he always had the best intentions for his children. He was a private man named after Frank Sinatra and I remembered my dad had the coolest hair-do. Sort of that 1950's greased hair look with a very good hairline. Suave!
Even more impressive: he immigrated at 16 by himself to come to America. I remembered him telling a little bit of his childhood and how he ran away from the ravages of war and communism. My dad thought America was like Snapple, "The Best Stuff on Earth". It was truly the American dream for him. At 16, with no education he enrolled in school, got a job, worked his tail off and bought a house free and clear. Quite a simple life, but a productive one: three kids, college educated with good perspectives my dad had a lot to be proud of. Every time he bought a car it was cash. He had a simple investment principle for me: 70/30. What you make save 70% and spend 30% on whatever you wish.
That always didn't work out: my dad bought his share of American cars that made Americana wince: a pink Cadillac, a green Pinto, a lime-green Nova, and white Buick Skylark. He finally had enough of America's awkward years of cars and settled on a Toyota Camry. He never had any problems with the Camry, but my dad was still full of nostalgia towards American cars, especially Cadillacs - I think I would have loved to see him driving a Caddy.
As a husband my dad treated my mother well. They had their moments of debates, but he was faithful and devoted to her.
He wasn't the romantic, but I never doubted his love for my mom. Never did I see my dad raise a hand to my mom and he always warned me, "Never disrespect another man's daughter."
As a father one memory of my dad struck me: I was a bad kid, and did something wrong one evening (which in my youth wasn't a surprise- I think my parents thought I came from the devil's lair). I would lie, cheat, steal and did everything I could to get whatever I want.
One evening on a summer day, I was disciplined and walked to my room sulking and sat by my window still staring at the house's backyard. I was moping, but confused my dad would discipline me. The anger, hurt of disappointment painted in his eyes made me sad I retreated to my bedroom. I think my dad thought I spent too much time by myself and he walked in and sat next to me. In that day, my dad had the biceps and he looked big compared to me as a child. He spoke softly to me, "You know why I disciplined you? It's not because I'm angry with you, I love you."
I sat silently and my father spoke, "...were you right in this?" I shook my head, I knew I was wrong.
Then he wrapped his arms around me, "The discipline was THEN, and now it's past. I still love you." He ran his fingers through my dark black hair, and smiled.
That was my dad. Simple old-fashioned values.
My love for America came from my dad bleeding 'red, white and blue'. He knew what living without freedom meant and he always said, "America is not perfect, but I wouldn't want to live anywhere else."
He adapted quickly to American culture: we watched the Celtics and 49ers (ironic considering we were Californians). To this day, my friends are absolutely bewildered why I watch the Celtics. My dad loved rooting against the Lakers - imagine that!
My constant enthusiasm for this country was from my dad. My dad's work ethic made an impression on me, but the man I am today is because of my dad. My dad's values were of a nobler age.
I love you dad, you will be missed. If anything I regret: I wish I could have placed a grandson into your lap and look into your eyes and say, "Don't worry, the Wong sonship line will continue...even with Celtic pride."
Even more impressive: he immigrated at 16 by himself to come to America. I remembered him telling a little bit of his childhood and how he ran away from the ravages of war and communism. My dad thought America was like Snapple, "The Best Stuff on Earth". It was truly the American dream for him. At 16, with no education he enrolled in school, got a job, worked his tail off and bought a house free and clear. Quite a simple life, but a productive one: three kids, college educated with good perspectives my dad had a lot to be proud of. Every time he bought a car it was cash. He had a simple investment principle for me: 70/30. What you make save 70% and spend 30% on whatever you wish.
That always didn't work out: my dad bought his share of American cars that made Americana wince: a pink Cadillac, a green Pinto, a lime-green Nova, and white Buick Skylark. He finally had enough of America's awkward years of cars and settled on a Toyota Camry. He never had any problems with the Camry, but my dad was still full of nostalgia towards American cars, especially Cadillacs - I think I would have loved to see him driving a Caddy.
As a husband my dad treated my mother well. They had their moments of debates, but he was faithful and devoted to her.
He wasn't the romantic, but I never doubted his love for my mom. Never did I see my dad raise a hand to my mom and he always warned me, "Never disrespect another man's daughter."
As a father one memory of my dad struck me: I was a bad kid, and did something wrong one evening (which in my youth wasn't a surprise- I think my parents thought I came from the devil's lair). I would lie, cheat, steal and did everything I could to get whatever I want.
One evening on a summer day, I was disciplined and walked to my room sulking and sat by my window still staring at the house's backyard. I was moping, but confused my dad would discipline me. The anger, hurt of disappointment painted in his eyes made me sad I retreated to my bedroom. I think my dad thought I spent too much time by myself and he walked in and sat next to me. In that day, my dad had the biceps and he looked big compared to me as a child. He spoke softly to me, "You know why I disciplined you? It's not because I'm angry with you, I love you."
I sat silently and my father spoke, "...were you right in this?" I shook my head, I knew I was wrong.
Then he wrapped his arms around me, "The discipline was THEN, and now it's past. I still love you." He ran his fingers through my dark black hair, and smiled.
That was my dad. Simple old-fashioned values.
My love for America came from my dad bleeding 'red, white and blue'. He knew what living without freedom meant and he always said, "America is not perfect, but I wouldn't want to live anywhere else."
He adapted quickly to American culture: we watched the Celtics and 49ers (ironic considering we were Californians). To this day, my friends are absolutely bewildered why I watch the Celtics. My dad loved rooting against the Lakers - imagine that!
My constant enthusiasm for this country was from my dad. My dad's work ethic made an impression on me, but the man I am today is because of my dad. My dad's values were of a nobler age.
I love you dad, you will be missed. If anything I regret: I wish I could have placed a grandson into your lap and look into your eyes and say, "Don't worry, the Wong sonship line will continue...even with Celtic pride."
2009 - a very rough year
Some people asked me, ' Why do you believe in God?'.
Because deep down I know there's more to life than the grave, or sorrow. It's simply not NATURAL.
If death was 'natural' and an accepted fate - we would never sorrow. It's just part of life like gravity, right?
Sorrows are always accompanied by, "It shouldn't be like this.." or some debate against the reality of it. I cannot accept death of a baby or the tragic death of young life cut short because that's the way the 'dice rolls'.
The diced rolled in my table and I don't like it.
For me, 2009 was a year of sorrows.
I almost lost my wife, we lost two pregnancies and following the last loss - we spent Thanksgiving holiday in the hospital. The day we found out we lost our baby, while we were delivering soup to a sick family we got hit by a hit-and-run driver. (We made soup as a distraction to keep busy with the loss our child.)
I thought I would close 2009 with a renewed expectation of hope, but instead I am waiting on my dad's surgery. He had a stroke and then recovered and later this afternoon was rushed to an emergency eight hour surgery unexpectedly.
I am confronting fears, anxieties I never thought I would face. I know God never said, "Let me in and troubles will never come." but I never thought I would face this much in one year. I am blessed by the grace of God through my church family and my wife. The prayers and support of people are the only thing keeping me. Even as a I write this there's a peace that surpasses my understanding because of a hidden spiritual dimension force.
I write this for my family, and my future children. Troubles will come. This life will cause grief and challenges.
But there is hope. The hope one day sorrows will be erased and tears will be dried. It's an expectation I look forward to one day. I know there's a heaven because I cannot accept death as 'that's the way it is'. That's why we fight to stay alive, it's unnatural.
One day I will rise again and I will greet my two children of 2009.
Because deep down I know there's more to life than the grave, or sorrow. It's simply not NATURAL.
If death was 'natural' and an accepted fate - we would never sorrow. It's just part of life like gravity, right?
Sorrows are always accompanied by, "It shouldn't be like this.." or some debate against the reality of it. I cannot accept death of a baby or the tragic death of young life cut short because that's the way the 'dice rolls'.
The diced rolled in my table and I don't like it.
For me, 2009 was a year of sorrows.
I almost lost my wife, we lost two pregnancies and following the last loss - we spent Thanksgiving holiday in the hospital. The day we found out we lost our baby, while we were delivering soup to a sick family we got hit by a hit-and-run driver. (We made soup as a distraction to keep busy with the loss our child.)
I thought I would close 2009 with a renewed expectation of hope, but instead I am waiting on my dad's surgery. He had a stroke and then recovered and later this afternoon was rushed to an emergency eight hour surgery unexpectedly.
I am confronting fears, anxieties I never thought I would face. I know God never said, "Let me in and troubles will never come." but I never thought I would face this much in one year. I am blessed by the grace of God through my church family and my wife. The prayers and support of people are the only thing keeping me. Even as a I write this there's a peace that surpasses my understanding because of a hidden spiritual dimension force.
I write this for my family, and my future children. Troubles will come. This life will cause grief and challenges.
But there is hope. The hope one day sorrows will be erased and tears will be dried. It's an expectation I look forward to one day. I know there's a heaven because I cannot accept death as 'that's the way it is'. That's why we fight to stay alive, it's unnatural.
One day I will rise again and I will greet my two children of 2009.