Dad always enjoyed telling the story about taking me to get my blood typing test done when I was around 7 years old. Maybe some of you have heard it, maybe several times. I know I’ve heard it countless times. What transpired I vaguely remember. Back in Taiwan, they would cut the ear lobe and get a blood drop on a glass slide. I can’t remember why it was needed, but it was before coming here to the US so maybe the blood type was required on some immigration forms, and apparently, I was the only one missing that information.

I was usually attached to my mom and followed her around all day, to the market, on errands, to the sisters meetings, everywhere. Mom has always been the family dynamo and managed so much on the homefront in order to free Dad to devote his time to the Word, to prayer, and to service. And it was rare for me to have any time with Dad all by myself. But this time, Dad took me. I think he took me on the Vespa after school. I remember having that short conversation that he found so memorable as we walked out of the testing place. I remember him being amused and laughing at my inquiry to him. When we came home, he promptly told mom and everyone we knew, it seemed. For decades, there was hardly a mention of that conversation. But for a few years just before Dad went home to be with the Lord, he started to tell that story again, lots of times. Many other events had been long forgotten, but this exchange stuck. I would over-hear him tell that story again over the meal at church to some patient brothers or sisters who would chuckle with him as he got to the punch line, as if they were hearing it for the first time. I was a bit exasperated. I don’t particularly find the story flattering and the humor level is lacking, but that interaction we had brought Dad joy, even after all the decades passed. It was told lovingly. I wish I could have stopped whatever I was doing, wherever I was heading, and sat down with him, see the twinkle in his eyes as he told the story, and chuckled with him at the punchline.

I miss you, Baba.

At the rate events are unfolding in the world today, are we not in the end times? Only our heavenly Father knows the moment when Christ our Lord will return for us. Perhaps it won’t be long before we see each other again.

Yes, I’m loving the Lord. I want to be ready. Until then, Baba, Happy Father’s Day.