Here’s a personal one.

Tuesday, August 8th, 2006 | Poetry

To Father

How was it

That we talked so much,
But never talked about anything at all?

Somewhere amidst the cooking lessons, the family histories, the critiques of restaurants we frequented,
even at the end,
As we spoke to each other, me in my bastardized Spanish and Cantonese, fumbling with my words as you spoke with authority on matters in both tongues,
I knew there was a life lesson,
To live and enjoy what precious time we had.
And yet you told me so little about yourself.

It was others that had to tell me?That you came to Santo Domingo when you were 17,
That you were the romantic one, chasing Mother all the way to Tennessee.
That you were the one who relocated your whole family to Puerto Rico, and drove around in your Mercedes convertible talking business, politics, and the best way to prepare a roasted pig to feed a family gathering of a hundred.

You had a concussion back in ‘86,
It led to the tumor you had to remove in ‘97, and you lost your voice, your ability to walk, and the independence you earned for yourself.
You lived in America for 40 years I knew you for 18 and I never heard you speak a single word of English.

My first nervous breakdown in high school,
I barricaded myself in my room, driving Mother Mad,
And all You could do was sit outside my room in your wheelchair,
Peering into my room wondering why I was in a corner,
Rocking back and forth to some rhythm that was keeping me calm.

I was engulfed with being myself, Father,
Thinking that I knew I was gay, and being selfish like I was,
That I would lose you if you knew.
That you would order someone to cut my legs and hands off,
That we would never go out on our Saturday dinners again,
That you would favor the eldest son again.

But I lost you to something else,
That night I stayed up late and heard you cough at 5 in the morning,
Awoke an hour later to Mother’s screams,
We tried CPR but it was too late.
And I told you finally, as your body lay growing cold next to me,
Before the family came, cousins, aunts and uncles,
That you had a gay son, and that he loved you very much.
Que su hijo es un homosexual, y te amo mucho.
Ngo jongi hong nam jai, Ngo oi ney.

3 Comments to Here’s a personal one.

Nicole
August 8, 2006

wow…that was very powerful…i know how you feel/felt about not being able to tell your father you are gay because you were scared that his love would change for you, i face that everyday…i want to tell my father but i know if i do i will lose the little bit of relationship we have right now and i couldn’t bare to see that go…i miss you stan…hope you are doing well in atlanta

Daniel Foo
August 10, 2006

Hey Stan, sorry to hear the news.. this has turned out to be a pretty sad week for many of my friends..

hope you’re doing fine! haven’t seen or spoken to you in a looong time, i’m sure the rest of us back home miss you as much as i do (in a straight way of course lol)

take care old friend

daniel

chase
September 1, 2006

Beautiful, Stan. So eloquent. It made me cry. Bitch!

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angelheaded hipster / the sweetest tongue

gay.asian.poet.southern.geek.photographer.

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