him.

my dad is my dad.

most of the time he's just a normal guy. his english skills, though extremely proficient, embarass me at times with words like 'super' pronounced 'shu-pa' or 'ecosystem' pronounced 'ek-oh-system' although my embarassment is moreso a sedated irritation which quickly morphs into an affectionately amused smile. sometimes i begin to suspect that he does it on purpose just to be entertaining (he IS quite generous like that) but i shake it off realizing that his intentions have never been anything more than straightforward.. efficient even. he's a practical guy in every sense. teaches mechanical engineering to grad students at catholic univeristy of america. he's not catholic. he fixes anything broken around the house. makes fried rice, fried noodles, fried buns (if that makes sense.. just anything that can be mixed up with the previous night's leftovers). he wears the same clothes over and over again simply because 1. they were given to him by us (my sister and i) 2. superficiality is foreign to him 3. they're comfortable. oh yeah and he tends to explain everything to everyone as he is quite knowledgable about everything. yes everything.and he is a natural teacher. and he does it in an outlined format. "there are 3 reasons. the first reason has 2 different meanings. each meaning....."concise. efficient.

thus is my dad.

he's never paid for his education. on the contrary he's quite often been paid to study all the way through his PhD. he invents things. he has 9 patents. 9. and he does it all with the mindset that that is his place in life. he doesn't question. or complain. or wish for more. not more fun, passion, fame, money. he just works and lives because that's what he's supposed to do.

he was the captain of the taiwan university rugby team. they represented the country and competed internationally. all the while maintaining good grades in engineering.yup that's him. superman.he sings. his voice is so loud that you can't even hear yourself singing through the microphone (volume up) when he's in the room. and he taught himself the guitar in college. he loves country music. and folk. embarassing you'd think. but that's what filled my childhood and i love him for that. did i say how great he is? when we were little my sister and i (with our demented sense of humour.. still intact i fear) would flip over one of those plastic mats with sharp teeth on one side that attach to the carpet so that you can put chairs with wheels over them and turn off the lights in the room and call him over just to crack up watching him step on the upturned mat and yell out in pain. horrible horrible children. :-). but it's mostly the singing that i remember.i miss him. i miss him now. i miss the him that would have been if things hadn't happened the way they did. i miss the old him. and the old me. the people that we used to be in the past. that we can't be now. i miss being his daughter because for years now i've just been me. grace. not his daughter. not "my daughter". just a singular me.and somehow i don't think it'll go away all this missing.