I thought I wouldn’t have much to say about my father, for we had grown distant from each other for years.

Since his retirement in 2005, my father had become a changed man. Once the breadwinner of the family, he couldn’t stand the change of his role, as if his status was diminished in the family and his social circles. And he never bothered to find a new purpose in life. Instead of making peace with the reality, he blamed everyone around him, especially my mother. He found fault with everything my mom did and they two always fought.

Things had gotten worse since four years ago. In 2012, my father was hit by a car when crossing the road and his legs were injured. Then in late 2015, a nasty fall broke his back and nearly paralyzed him. After discharge from the hospital, he refused to go for any physiotherapy – typical of him – and thus forwent the chance of recovery. His legs slowly atrophied and he was confined home in his late years.

Losing mobility made my father even grumpier and his attitude toward my mother became increasingly intolerable. I sometimes selfishly considered myself lucky for living far away from my parents, so I didn’t have to listen to my father’s nonsense and complaints. I talked less and less with my father, and I consciously let it become a habit.

But even before that, there was already less conversation between us, as we didn’t have many common topics to talk about. I picked up a different mindset after years of living abroad, while my father had been a traditional Chinese man.

Partly because of our differences, I had some resentment toward my father. He lived by the principle of “face” and liked to brag sometimes. He was so into connections that it was often the first thing that came into his mind. Such behavior sometimes really got under my skin.

I also resented him for being too harsh on me as a kid and snapped at me easily for small mistakes. I was afraid of him when I was little.

I resented him for insisting on sending me to a boarding school in the rural area when I was only 12, though I was already recruited by one of the most prestigious middle schools in the city, because he thought the experience would toughen me up. I was unprepared for living by myself at that age, unaccustomed to the things in the rural place and hated everything about the school.

I was so depressed that I never felt happy for a day in those three years, when every kid that age was supposed to be happy. I cried a lot, dreaded going to school every week and even escaped home several times. I begged my father to change the school, but he never budged and blamed me for being weak.

There was one time that I missed home so much, I took a bus to the city and then walked home by myself. The trip was more than an hour. By the time I reached home, it was nearly 9pm. My father didn’t let me stay the night and immediately drove me back to school. It was late, the gate was shut and the campus was all dark. He made me climb over the gate and return to the dormitory, and told me not to run home again. That was the last time I did it.

I resented him for giving away my dog when we moved to a new house. I felt powerless to watch it happen. I lived in guilt for years and always believed it was a mistake.

And I resented him for not treating my mom the way she deserved, even in his late years when my mom took care of him at home every single day.

However, I also know another side of my father. I remember when I was a small kid, my father brought me along on many of his trips. He liked my company when he traveled.

I remember the trip to Lushan resort when I was 6 or 7 years old, at a rest station half way up the mountain, he noticed that I was looking at a kid holding a packaged drink. He immediately bought one for me, though I didn’t ask for it.

I remember that he installed intercoms in our bedrooms, and we used to sing to each other through the intercoms before bed.

I remember that he surprised me when he suddenly appeared outside my classroom one night, when the class at the rural school was doing self-studies. He waved at me but disappeared soon afterwards. I went out to look for him at recess, running around the campus like crazy, but he was nowhere to be found. After I went home that weekend, he told me he drove past the school and stopped by just to check on me, but he couldn’t stay.

I remember that after I moved to Singapore, he would always wait at the terminal every time I flew back, and always drove me to the airport for my return flight, until his immobility stopped him from driving.

And I know that my father never saw me any different, even though he was well aware that my worldview had been altered and my value system had been replaced after living overseas for years. Many erstwhile friends and some relatives thought that I had become different, but he saw me only as his son and never asked me to change.

I also admired his determination and courage in his younger years. After being a logistics driver for a textile factory for many years, my father and several business partners opened their own factory in 1990. That was when China just opened up its doors to the world and started to allow private ownership of business. My father was one of those pioneers who took the opportunity.

Several years later, my father took over the whole operation and became the sole business owner. He had ran the business for 25 years, provided us with a comfortable life and more than 130 workers with employment, as well as many of my relatives.

Sadly, he lost that grit in his late life and even gave up the chance to walk on his own again. And I knew he allowed himself to slip into depression and hadn’t felt happy in a long time since he was house-bound four years ago.

In the early morning of 21 February 2020, my father lost the fight for his life and passed away from a heart attack. He was 65.

Though we were warned about his dangerous heart condition by the doctors, my father’s passing still came as a shock. I was again far away from him, on another continent, and I still can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that he is no longer in this world.

I wish he could have kept his courage like he used to, then he would have gotten better and spent more time with us. I wish his death wasn’t so sudden, then we could have been with him before he left this world. I’ll have to live with the regret that I didn’t even see him for the last time.

And I wish he would be in a better place now and could finally put his mind at ease. He was not perfect. But he was my father, and the man that made who I am today.