Eulogy for Dad by Peggy Chiu
Eulogy for Yuk Wing Raymond Chiu
My eulogy of a few short pages cannot do our father and his lifetime justice. There is so much to Dad as a person: intelligent, witty, honest to a fault, loyal to the end, generous beyond belief, fun-loving yet intense, always life of the party and yet would often bemoan having to attend one, numerically precise but often late for appointments. So many vivid and assorted memories of Dad come rushing to mind.
Many of Dad’s personal details are already included in his on-line memorial page. As I reminisced about Dad one night this week, it occurred to me that I could use the initial of the first names of his children – Pauline, Peggy, Priscilla, Nelson, Phoebe: P, P, P, N and P – to share with everyone some of Dad’s most intrinsic qualities as our father. I think Dad himself would appreciate this acronymic structure for this brief tribute.
Pauline: P is for “Poet-Patriot”
When Dad downsized from our family home of nearly 40 years to a seniors’ condo, out of the multitude of options available, the only activity he joined was Chinese poetry class. Chinese poetry is an interest that of all his children only Pauline shared deeply with Dad and also our Mom. However, that is not to say that the rest of us did not have to memorize them. Reciting and talking about Chinese poetry after dinner would be lengthy, inevitably digressing to the cruelty and brutality of various dynastic rulers in Chinese history whose self-serving short-sightedness ultimately brought about China’s decline and defeat by foreign powers. Not exactly light after-dinner conversation! Our father would talk about these dark periods in Chinese history with a lump in his throat and a tear in his eye. Both he and our mom lived through World War II, with Dad in particular having lived in Hong Kong as a young child during the Japanese occupation. This experience had a profound impact on him for the rest of his life.
Even while Dad was in the hospital in the weeks before he passed, he was still contemplating and lamenting that the kings throughout Chinese history cared less for the welfare of their common subjects. We knew he was proud to be Canadian, but clearly his Chinese roots ran deep. Stuck on his hospital bed, he would recite Chinese poetry, verse and proverbs with us, one of which we siblings can still recite from memory. Essentially, it is a poem about how fleeting time is, and that is exactly how Dad felt as his health started its downturn last year after his heart attack. Right up to the end Dad could not believe how short life was even after 86 years. He was simply enjoying it so much, and we are thankful that this is how he felt when he left us.
Peggy: P is for “Prepared Provider”
Dad was the provider for us that he wished he had growing up. Because his own father passed awy when he was a young child, he came up with his own idea of what a father should be, and that, he decided, is to be a good provider. He worked hard and persevered until 1992 even though work was often joyless. He wanted his children well-clothed, well-fed and well-educated. He was the quintessential immigrant father: labouring to give his children a far brighter future than the one he had. Not that he didn’t have success in his own career, but he did hope his children would achieve more and have greater security than he had in Hong Kong. He used to complain to us jokingly that he had too many children. We later realized what a huge burden Dad had carried as provider for a household of 8. He did it, and we are thankful that the Lord provided for us richly through our dad, and beyond just material things. And when it did come to the material, we were priority ahead of himself. Case in point we will never forget: when we were little Dad and Mom once vacationed in Hawaii and came home with boxes of luscious chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. Our entire family, as it happened, LOVED macadamia nuts, and chocolate made it even better. So when Dad opened the boxes, everyone dug in, and very soon only 1 piece was left. I was trying to be a good little daughter, so as much as I wanted that last piece, I took it in my little hands and gave it to Dad. Maybe my hands were a bit dirty as well, but Dad told me, “No, you have it because you enjoy it so much. You eating it is the same as me eating it.” This phrase would be repeated many times over throughout our lives, even at decadent meals of lobster and peking duck. He particularly wanted us to enjoy food, so there was a standing invitation from Dad to go out for a fancy meal any time. He was seldom happier than we enjoyed meals together, as evidenced by the many family photos taken at restaurants before the advent of social media!
I think Dad was by nature a person who needed to be prepared for the worst, and not just because he had been a Boy Scout. Having told us umpteen times that the Scout motto is “Be Prepared”, we were literally ready as a family for virtually anything: our family always had a stock pile of food, batteries, radios, flashlights, cash, and back-up supplies in our basement. Each of our family cars had booster cables, compressors to inflate flat tires, a spade in case we were stuck in the snow, and flashing lights in case we did need to pull over. We even each carried an extra car key in case we inadvertently left 1 key in the ignition and locked the car door. This was back in the 70’s before there were prepared emergency kits! And of course, he got us all CAA memberships. Dad made sure if there was ever an emergency, we would not be stuck nor without means. One of the last things Dad bought me was a battery booster for our car last Christmas. If you have ever visited me and Ken at our home or seen the trunk of our car, you will see that Dad taught this daughter well to be prepared come power outage or car trouble – we are ready!
Priscilla: P is for “Practical Perfectionist”
Dad was a perfectionist, which often made it difficult for us, his kids. He was literally the parent that would say, “What about the 1%?” when we bring home a 99% test result. Hard as he was on us, he was equally demanding of himself. He wanted to be a good and fair father and worked hard at it. If he was wrong, he was never too proud to admit it and to apologize to us when needed.
To be accurate, Dad wasn’t always seeking perfection in an ideal sense. More often it was based on his sense of good and good quality, and he was very critical almost all of the time. For example, before any of us bought a piece of clothing, it would have to pass his inspection for the fabric quality and sewing workmanship. He would research to the nth degree exactly the right microscope or telescope for his hobby studies, and would take us through the different product brochures to show each model’s pros and cons. From him, we learned about the “nice things”: the clarity of a Carl Zeiss lens, the beauty of Bohemian crystal, the smoothness of a fine Parker ballpoint pen, the uniqueness of semi-precious stones, the precision of Swiss watches, all of which he collected. On the quirkier side, he used to insist that we his daughters do not pierce our ears. Why put a hole in your perfectly good ear lobes, he used to say! Too bad for Dad: all of us daughters would eventually have our ears pierced. Just our ears, Dad!
When Dad passed, one of the first things we did was to look through his trove of family information and records to recall the history of our family and his life. Dad was methodical, thorough and systematic, and Priscilla is very much like that. There was a logic and order to his work, play and interests, from his library to his collectibles to his record keeping. He kept his complete volume of Time-Life Library in plastic bags – the same ones used for packaging pyjamas made by his garment factory. Over the years he filed, labelled and organized the whole family of 10 including our family tree book, report cards since grade school, family photos and home movies, university degrees and citizenship documents, and details as pedestrian as his Pac Man scores and car gas mileage. He was our family record keeper who meticulously stored our precious memories and mementos. We are truly thankful to inherit these now from our dad for posterity.
Nelson: N is for “Need for (K)nowledge”
As I mentioned before, Dad accumulated a lot of books in his library, but his need for knowledge did not end there. Aside from volumes of scientific and encyclopedic books, he also had a large collection of maps, how-to manuals, dictionaries and magazines including National Geographic, Popular Science and Angler and Hunter. In his study he would set up a makeshift classroom to teach us about the globe and Mercator map projection, the Earth’s tilt and magnetic poles, planetary motion in our solar system, basic astrophysics, electric current and electromagnetism, different watch mechanisms and the 4-stroke combustion engine, to name just a few. Dad also undertook a correspondence course in electronics, building his own large screen CRT television that we kids enjoyed watching in the Basement while the adults in the family watched their own television shows upstairs. During his retirement years he delved into learning the computer, so having a son in the computer business came in real handy for Dad to get caught up with the digital internet age. He was hooked, and it was not long before he wanted the latest cell phone, digital camera, iPad, laptop, flatscreen TV and gadget.
Aside from academic knowledge, our father also expected us to know how to handle ourselves in any given situation, be it proper etiquette or survival skills. The lesson would usually take place while we were doing something as innocuous as going out to dinner, playing a board game or watching television. For example, in the middle of a harrowing scene, Dad would interrupt and ask us, “What would you do if you were in that situation to save yourself?” If we were playing a board game, he would want it to be an educational or mental strategy lesson, so he used to insist that we play chess. As the ultimate “no-luck-and-all-skill” game, he would coax us to play against his chess computer daily through our summer breaks. He taught us how to swim, skate, ride a bike, use a firearm, change a tire, fix our car when it wouldn’t start, use the right tools to fix things around the house from dripping faucets to soldering wires back in place. For Dad it didn’t matter if we were his daughters or his son – he gave us the same access to information, knowledge and education so that we would be learned, capable and resourceful. It’s our dad’s legacy that we his kids have the same curiosity and thirst for knowledge, to want to continually hone our skills and to never stop learning.
Phoebe: P is for “Protective Parent”
Dad’s English name “Raymond” is derived from the Germanic name “Raginmund”, meaning counsellor and wise or mighty protector. As a parent, our dad went to great lengths to protect us from all sorts of danger, real or imagined, from the day we joined the family until the day he passed.
Dad was an auxiliary police officer in Hong Kong on active duty during the Communist riots in the mid-1960’s. It was our parents’ fear that Hong Kong would destabilize politically after the Vietnam war. To secure a safer future for us, our father gave up his lucrative textile business and uprooted himself and his family to a new country and a new culture. In 1974, our family moved to Toronto, Canada.
Growing up, Dad wanted everything to be as good for us as he knew how. This included: not allowing us to watch colour television in our early childhood; limiting us to 1 hour of TV a day; sitting as far away from the TV as possible while viewing; not drinking any pop – only water, juice and milk; taking multivitamins and cod liver oil; getting enough fresh air and exercise; not having a microwave oven for fear of exposure. He was at times overly protective. For example, he did not want us to go to the library by ourselves so he bought us 2 sets of encyclopedia and lots of reference books to form our own children’s library. Once we outgrew our kiddie bike, he refused to buy us a new bike for fear we could be hurt riding on major roads. He was very selective whose friends’ homes we could visit, and which of our friends could come over. As he would later tell us, we were sheltered in the comfortable home that he and our mom provided us here in Canada because he did not have the same safety and security growing up amidst the tumult of war in Hong Kong and then his family’s poverty afterward. Democracy, he would say, is not perfect, but freedom is essential, and this he made certain for us including his second wife Yan, and Phoebe his “newest” daughter. Most of all, knowing that his time was short, he prayed for all of us in his family, lifting us up to the Lord in faith and committing us to His care.
Dad, we miss you deeply. We know you loved us, and you knew how much we loved you. Most importantly, we are thankful you received the Lord’s gracious gift of eternal life because you realized the Lord loved you and has blessed you and your family over the years. We thank you for all of your sacrifices and willingness to put us first in your life, equipping us to be able and prepared to not only survive but to thrive. As we have before and now again, we entrust you to our Lord’s care. Until we meet again in the heavenly kingdom for all eternity – see you then!