"All music comes from God."

Every time I took the time to visit a family member, I always find myself feeling so glad that I did it.

Last month I visited my dad in San Antonio. Saying “I have never been close to my dad all my life” is an understatement. Much of my life I have held some anger towards him for not being able to provide a peaceful environment to the family due to his bad temper, constant unemployment, and various other issues. Because of the anger deep inside me, I never feel particularly excited to visit him. But last month, I took a 4-hour drive with my mom during rush hour traffic to go visit, and the moment I walked into the house after the long drive, I saw this old man with a head of grey hair standing in the kitchen with a walking cane, I suddenly felt so glad that I visited. I spent 3 months with him last year since he stayed at our Houston home after breaking his ankle, and it never occurred to me that he was an old man, or has become one. So after not seeing him for a couple months and suddenly seeing him aged like we haven’t met in years, the image felt very out of place to me and definitely caught me by surprise. And for a moment, I thought to myself “I’m so glad to be home.”

This past weekend I went up to Boston to visit my sister and my best friend. Actually up until the two days before the visit, I was still wondering if I should cancel the ticket and not visit. The reason was my mom almost fainted at work the other day when she suddenly experienced blurred vision out of nowhere, and she was planning to make a 3+ hour drive to San Antonio to visit my dad the same weekend, so I had considered whether to cancel the flight and drive with her instead in case her vision suddenly became blurred again during the long-distance drive on a 80-mph highway. In the end she said she’s fine so I decided to still make my trip to Boston. After arriving at Boston, during the drive from the airport back to my sister’s home, I saw piles of snow on the ground everywhere:

I suddenly thought to myself, “It must be a cold winter for my sister to be here by herself…” Even though I know she has her fiance here, I still thought, “I wish I was here when she was having a cold winter here by herself… all the snowstorms and coldness and sometimes loneliness. I’m so glad I came visit.” And then we went and picked up my best friend, who actually had a horrible, horrible day. The moment she got in the car and saw me, she teared up. I know she would’ve been fine and will be able to cheer herself up from the bad day eventually even if I didn’t visit, but nonetheless I was glad I happened to be there at a moment when I was needed by people I love the most. But then it made me sad to think that this also means there are many other times when I am not there when people I love might be experiencing difficult times. I always wish that everyone I love lives at the same place/city, and I could just be at that same place with them. Ever since I moved out of Hong Kong when I was 13, everyone I loved was no longer at the same place. My world got bigger, but my loved ones’ presence got smaller. I wish one day everyone can live their lives in one small world again, and I wish this day will come before we all reunite in heaven.

Ever since I moved out of Boston, every time I came back to visit, the moment I stepped into my sister’s apartment, I couldn’t help but look around to see if there’s anything new since my last visit. Sometimes I see a new stuffed animal that I hadn’t seen the previous time, sometimes I see new picture frames that were not there last time. It is a strange thing that whenever I spotted these new additions to the household, I would become very sentimental for a moment, because each new addition that wasn’t there since I last visited – is a reminder to me that life has brought us to separate paths and we no longer share life as closely as we once did. She’s had new experiences in life since we last saw each other, and I wasn’t part of those. I know it is only natural that this happens as we grow up, and it would not only be unrealistic, but also actually not ideal, that our paths continue to remain closely mingled as we go through our own separate journeys and normal life progressions, some of which require various levels of separation from our family of origin. Nonetheless, this normal progression of life, and the way it has brought us separate ways, still leaves me feeling sentimental, empty, and if I have to be honest, sad. Maybe one day, I will eventually become so used to this that I will no longer feel sad for it. When I do, I will have finally learned a lesson, called growing up. Or, growing old.