吹水

Chris threw a Red Ginger and Egg party yesterday.  He invited all his family.. including those from New York and Toronto... and us + dad, which is soooo special.  Not sure where we rank in the concentric circles of family... but to be the only non-family there.. must be pretty close.  I went out to SF to pick dad up and brought him in to Millbrae with an hour to kill, so we hung out at Starbucks for an hour.

Started spit-balling with dad... and then he launched into his reminisce mode, going back in time and recounting all the times he was wronged.  Of how grandfather was wrongfully incarcerated for 20+ years.  How grandma did everything she can to hold the family together - including begging people to pay off their debts.  How great-grandfather won't lend even $4 for tuition.  How grandma would have to pawn off the winter blanket to have money for summer... only to pawn off the summer clothes for the winter months.  How my uncle made my dad cry by saying, "My dad took me to watch a movie!!"  I've heard these stories so many times... and dad re-tells it like he's telling it for the first time.  How many times he's gone through this speech in his head during those late nights... and it's amazing how he doesn't leave any details out each time he retells it.

I read somewhere... where we shouldn't stop our aging parents from re-living the glory years.  That these trips down memory lane is a means of creating happy moments for them.  But why do I let dad re-live these melancholic moments? 

At the party... he ran into his former neighbors from the village where he grew up.  And throughout dinner... they kept on retelling the stories from the good ol' days.  Stories they must've retold over and over again each time they got together.  As I drove him home... I can tell... he was happy.  He was in is happy place.