Tuesday, April 01, 2008

I Close My Eyes, A Final Dedication

Isn't time amazing? How the years slip away. Suddenly and sadly, you are only a memory now and finally I have found the time to sit down and write this dedication to you. I admit I have procrastinated perhaps because this is a tangible affirmation that you are gone, something that has taken me a long long time to accept.

Where are you now? We all thought you were immortal. People still approach me and say " I'm so sorry about your father, he was a great man", and I think-my God, you're never coming back are you?

You know, I play that day-4th July 1991- back to myself in my mind all the time. I ask myself why? Why did you resist and put up a fight dad? Why did you not let those man get what they want and walk away? Were you in pain when they took your life away? I pray that you died peacefully, without pain; this is something that will taunt me for the rest of my life, I know you are peaceful now.

In the evenings when I hear the turn of the keys in the front door, I close my eyes and expect you to walk through the door and feel the pat of your hand on my head. I close my eyes and hear your voice at the kitchen, is dad talking in there. I close my eyes and smell hospital corridors on your shirt that now belong to your sons. I still see scraps of your handwriting on cards and notes that are buried in my drawer and I remember the skin of your surgeon's hands made soft through the years of careful washing. I sometimes look in the mirror and see traces of your face staring back at me- a smile, a frown- the image of a Father. I still believe that one day you'll call me to say that it was all a big mistake and that you're coming home.

Not one day has passed without me thinking of you, I expect I always will. Sometimes I burn a candle for you in St. Mary's Cathedral and I cry. I realized we only loved you as any family would love their Father whilst your patients saw you as their saviour, a miracle worker.

From your death, I've learned that greed distorts and destroys. That each life is precious and often fragile thing, taste it, smell it, touch it, laugh at it, embrace it. Appreciate little moments, make most of what you have; savor each memory, tell People you love that you love them-all the time-not just when something goes wrong. Have compassion for others, make your time worthwhile.

Life must be celebrated, death will be mourned; besides I have my memories
and when I miss you, I just close my eyes.

This was written on the wall in the park opposite St. Vincent's Hospital in memory of Dr. Victor Chang, a famous heart surgeon who was murdered in 1991 by robbers, 1 of whom was a Malaysian. I was deeply touched by what I read.

http://www.victorchang.com.au/

3 comments:

mel said...

That's really lovely, Jenn. Thanks for sharing.

p/s - When I first read it, I thought it was you who had written it, & I starting to think, "Wow, maybe Jenn should seriously consider writing as a career instead of hospitality."

jennvaz said...

I wish I had that talent Mel, I suspect it was written by Victor's daughter hereself. She wrote a book about her father and how his death effected the family.When I saw the wall, I just felt that I had to share it. It would be such a waste for such a beutiful dedication to be left unnoticed. Many people would have just walked by it everyday and not know what's written on it.

By the way, have a delightful holiday.

mel said...

Thanks, dear ... you too ;)