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1과  where the heart  is

When I was younger, I used to silently pray that I would be nothing like my father when I grew up.

Other kids my age were proud to say that their dads were their heroes, which really bothered me.

I secretly envied them because I did not have a father like that.

My father was so serious in everything he did.

His brow was always wrinkled, a sign of his constant watch over his family.

It was his own way of saying that his expectations were not being met.

My grandmother could not remember a time when my father had done anything wrong.

He was too perfect to be a role model for me.

I felt timid and self-conscious around him.

It is true that my father wanted me to make the right decision at every crossroad in my life, but always from his perspective.  My father was always offering words of advice.

Although they may have been ancient proverbs or old sayings, they were always "Daddy originals" to me.

"When you're prepared, you'll never be scared," he would tell me when I was up late studying for a test.

He always stressed the importance of preparation.

"Haste makes waste," was his response when I would bring home a math exam full of careless mistakes.

"When you lose an hour in the morning, you search for it the rest of the day," is the Chinese proverb I often heard on Saturday mornings when I had tons of homework.

In short, I couldn't afford to relax or be just average on any exam.

"Live by foresight, and learn from hindsight," he would say when I was younger and just old enough to understand what "fore-" and "hind-" mean.

These sayings buzzed in my ears at times when, as I got older, I wanted to scream:

"I know, Dad! You've only been telling me these things since I was two years old!"

I always recognized that he wanted me to do my best, but his advice lacked a loving tone.

Indeed, at times his voice became one of nagging monotony.

I was on the right track, I guess, and he didn't have to constantly lecture me on the virtue of hard work.

As I have grown older, however, I have realized that Dad, in his own way, has been trying to guide me in the right direction.  Everything became much clearer to me last summer.

I was away at summer school for two months in Massachusetts.

It was the longest separation I had had from my parents.

I was too far from home to see my parents even on weekends.

Communication with my family consisted of more e-mail messages than telephone conversations.

My father corresponded with me more than anyone else.

He always returned my e-mails promptly and tried in his own way to cheer me up.

He signed one of his e-mails "love ya," which is not at all like him, and I was reminded of another one of his sayings:  "When you lose your sense of humor, you lose your mind."

You know what? In English, "you" is sometimes shortened to "ya" to express closeness.

For example, many people say "See ya!" when they say good-bye to their friends, and sign their letter or e-mail with "Love ya!" or "Miss I ya!"

Near the end of summer school, I got a phone call from Mom.

She said, "We had a family reunion at Grandma's last weekend, and guess what your father did!

He had printed out all of your e-mails and shared them with all of your cousins.

He was so proud of the fact that you were doing great on your own and he said he loves you so much."

I had an epiphany: in my messages, Dad was reading about preparation and patience, time management, and foresight.   I made him laugh a lot, too.

Then I remembered another one of his sayings:  "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

And I cried.

I should have known earlier that my father had always been there for me as my true hero.