Father’s Dying
“Father is dying and asking for you,” Jade told me. I debated hard and long before honoring his wish.
I remembered him as tall, strong, and handsome. Yet, he slapped me when I was three because a cart almost killed Jade, and I was supposed to watch over her. The elementary school rejected to admit me because he was a rightist during China’s Cultural Revolution. When Mom finally got the courage to divorce him, Jade and I, nine and ten, wanted to live with Mom and he refused to pay child support.
When I was in middle school, the government policy at the time was that each household could only keep one child in the city and the rest must go to the countryside after graduating from high school. Father was remarried but had no child in his household. Mom hoped he would take in one of us so that each household had just one child. Mom wanted me to go to him without telling me the reason. But he didn’t want me. He wanted Jade. I was crushed that neither parent wanted me. After overcoming suicidal thoughts, I decided to be independent and go far away. I secretly signed up for a vocational school instead of a high school because vocational schools provided living costs and a small stipend. My teacher discovered my plan and confronted Mom.
Mom was shocked. She later explained to me that she considered me to be more mature thus she’d be less worried about one of us living with Father.
That same year, 1976, the end of the Cultural Revolution brought a new government policy: every person had a right to go to college if they passed the college entrance exam. Suddenly, every child had hope regardless of their family background or personal circumstances—anyone who wanted to have a better life started to prepare for college entrance exams.
I found my playing field—my love of learning and my ability to demonstrate high performance paid off. Not only did I earn respect and admiration that I never dreamed of, but I also paved a future for myself by doing the only thing I could do—study hard.
The news of my being admitted to Peking University was all over local places, especially in the neighborhood we used to live in, and Father still lived at the time. I heard him make comments such as “Of course, my daughter should go to Peking University because I went to Tsinghua University.” No one knew that I avoided Tsinghua because it’s his alma mater.
Ten years later, he laughed at me when I told him my plan: “You? Studying in America?”
I hadn’t talked to him since that moment, 18 years ago. I decided my life would be better without him.
At 54, when I finally faced him, this smaller, weaker, gray-haired skeleton tried hard to open his eyes. Right there and then, the wall against him collapsed.