Changes in My Father

My father is now a man in his seventies. Recently, after doctors at home failed to help him with his constipation, he came to stay with me so that I could care for and treat him.

Unlike his previous visits, which never lasted long in the city, this time my father very much hopes to stay with me for good. In the past he always made only short plans to live in town; this time he wishes to spend the rest of his years living here.

Because my father understands music, back in his village he was recruited by the local folk orchestra as an amateur musician. Whenever a village family held a funeral or a wedding, they would be asked to come and blow and beat their instruments to liven up the atmosphere.

My father says that this year alone he has already attended nearly ten funerals, having seen off so many of his peers. He therefore feels rather low and keeps thinking that his own time on earth will soon be up.

In the village, those who could move away have moved away, and those who could not have died off; the population left behind shrinks by the day.Although our village is one of the largest in the county, it has grown much quieter as times have changed.Seven or eight out of every ten neighbors are gone, and the doors of nearly every household are locked all year round.So much so that at night my father now feels afraid staying at home alone.

The development of society has transformed the village, and the transformation of the village has transformed my father. Whenever I used to bring him to live with me for a long spell, he would always long for his old home; this time he truly no longer does. More and more of his old companions have passed on, and his children and grandchildren are not by his side. The elderly left behind in the village grow lonelier and lonelier.

When he first arrived, I noticed faint signs of depression in my aged father. After a few days by my side, this senile depression clearly began to ease.

In the first few days, his short-term memory had deteriorated to a degree that startled me. Every single meal he would ask me how much of the probiotic supplement I was giving him. Things he had just put away would, moments later, be nowhere to be found. After a few days this situation improved considerably.

At first I was rather worried, because a whole cluster of his symptoms closely resembled the early signs of dementia. My uncle has suffered from dementia for several years now, and having seen him unable to care for himself, I was deeply afraid that my own father might end up the same way.

So whenever I had a spare moment, I would take my father for walks near home and chat with him. When no patients came to see me, I would bring him to my workplace and let him sit beside me reading while I played my lute.

Gradually my father became a little more cheerful. Moreover, the dietary regimen and medication I gave him worked well: his constipation eased a great deal, and with it his tense, depressed mood relaxed considerably.

Illness, aging, and death are the great themes of human life that we fear yet cannot escape. When most people face illness, aging, and death, they need some spiritual comfort from their family. People cannot do without the company of loved ones; for elderly patients, perhaps the best medicine is the companionship of family.

Unlike his previous easygoing attitude toward life and death, my father has grown fond of life in recent years. He hopes he can still live another ten or twenty years. So he now treasures his health more than before, no longer drives himself farming, and has learned that physical labor should also be kept within limits. A father who worked hard all his life has finally realized that he really is growing old.

No one is strong forever. Everyone has times of sickness and old age, and someone must provide them with spiritual support. I am both the spiritual pillar of my family and that of my patients. When I myself grow old and ill, perhaps I too will need a pillar of support.

These days spent accompanying my father have made me deeply realize that my own existence matters a great deal to my father, my family, and my patients.

These changes in my father are also changing me. The father of today is the me of tomorrow. Having witnessed my father's aging and my mother's death, I know that growing old and dying are no longer far off for me.

During these days with my father, from time to time I deleted some of my articles online, essentially cleaning out everything I had published beyond my WeChat official account and personal website. As I deleted on and on, very little remained. On many online platforms, this person known as me no longer exists from now on.

I now want my life to be "small and beautiful," "focused and refined." No need for grand goals, no need for great influence. Keep my workload within limits and keep my stress as low as possible.

I also try to keep a low profile in dealing with the world (though this is hard), withdrawing from the world without leaving it, retreating into a small house that is my own domain, finding joy in the study of medical skill, and forgetting the passage of time.

The Buddha says: the past mind cannot be grasped, the present mind cannot be grasped, the future mind cannot be grasped. When the times change, a person's thoughts change too. I once strove so hard for a living that I forgot how to live. Now I realize that life is simply life; one does not have to strive toward some particular kind of life for it to count as living. This statement may seem nonsensical, but those who have truly lived it will understand.

I only hope that my father can, as he wishes, live another ten or twenty years, so that I may still accompany him on walks and in conversation, sharing ten or twenty more years of the simple joy of family life with him.

I have already lost my mother, and now I treasure this fatherly love all the more.As long as my father is still here, I am still a child who has someone to shelter him. After all, no one truly wants to grow up.