For the first time in my life, I feel grief. But only moments of it when the realization hits that I’ll never see my dad or hear his voice greet me, Hi Meimei, ever again. Most of the time, however, I’ve been just fine. Perhaps because I’m in denial that such a lively and charming man could just…perish.
At midnight of January 1, 2019, my mom and I each gave my dad a hug wishing him a Happy New Year. That was the last time we’d ever hear his voice.
It all happened in just one month’s time—December. He came down with a high fever and then all the symptoms arose. He coughed blood, lost 20 pounds, couldn’t sleep or eat, was constipated for days, all of this causing him to be terribly weak. On Christmas Day, after waiting 11 days for an appointment at a hospital in Beijing, he went for a CT scan. Two days later I went to pick up the results—he had late stage cancer in his lungs. Nobody, especially my dad, could believe this.
It terrified him. My aunt thinks my dad was scared to death. Now I understand where this expression comes from. He was a strong, generally healthy man (aside from his 5 decades of smoking), very rarely got sick, and had never stayed overnight in a hospital before.
When I was little, my dad always said he would rather die young than as a decrepit old man. On January 24th, he would have been just 65. It’s difficult for anybody to believe that just a month ago, he was walking tall, like a boss, with his beloved Hermes hat and cracking everyone up at the dinner table.
That’s what he was known for. Making people happy and laughing until they cried. That’s what he lived for.
The people who attended his funeral were mostly friends of 40+ years. They flew in from various Chinese cities; the farthest from Paris. Other folks included his students, students’ parents, and various individuals who came to express their gratitude for my dad’s support that changed the course of their lives.
I wrote in my eulogy that for his whole life, my dad always put others before himself. He is the most selfless, gracious, loyal person I know. What I admire most about my dad, though, is how he treated people. In his eyes, people were equal. He treated the gypsy cab driver and the cleaning lady as he would the famous singers and millionaires in his friend circle. I didn’t realize until his passing that my dad has always been and will remain to be my idol.
The greatest consolation of my father’s sudden passing is that he didn’t have to suffer. The past 2 weeks were painful, yes, but he doesn’t have to suffer through torturous cancer treatments or spend time at hospitals. He got to pass away in his bed, on a date that nobody can forget.
I am not as sad to have lost a father as I am for this world to have lost a truly good human being. All dads are superheroes, but he was more than just a superhero to me. He was a superhero to all who ever had the fortune to meet him.
May you finally rest in peace. Love you, Daddy.
Hello from Beijing! 
[…] My dad was never home for Christmas (or any holiday rather) because Chinese restaurants were counted on to stay open for Jewish people and for Chinese people who didn’t celebrate Christmas. […]