Fatherless Day & Dad Stories

We called our first Father’s Day without Michael “Fatherless Day” which sounds a bit sad but ended up being gentle and lovely all around.

Michael was a BIG proponent of breakfast, and it took no convincing whatsoever to get him to make pancakes, French toast, or a big egg scramble with bacon, sausage and fried potatoes any day of the week. If it wasn’t for him, my sons would probably believe those were only things you can get at restaurants because the best I ever did for them was keep the pantry filled with cold cereal the minute they were big enough to handle a carton of milk on their own.

Perpetually sleep deprived and therefore at my worst in the mornings, I once bought the boys frozen Eggo waffles which I’d pop in the toaster right before we’d get in the minivan to head to school. I’d wrap them in a paper towel and call them “Car Waffles.” They loved them until one day Michael was doing the morning school run and found them, and toasted them up before placing them on a proper plate with butter and syrup. I remember the boys later scolding me, telling me there was no such thing as “Car Waffles,” that I’d been doing it all wrong, they were meant to be eaten at the table with silverware. I gave Michael the side-eye and went back to stocking the pantry with cold cereal. To him, breakfast was meant to be savored, a slow and thoughtful start to even the busiest, most hectic day.

For our Fatherless Day, which we observed on Saturday since Sunday is a long work day for Benjamin, Ben made Michael’s very fancy French toast with Madagascan Vanilla and thick egg bread picked up from a local bakery. I found some maple flavored sausage which I fried up for us, and we dined like royalty remembering Dad’s willingness to go to any length to make sure we had a great brekkie, and our sorrow that in the last six months of his life his own breakfasts had been reduced to individual cereal boxes and single serving oat milk drink boxes due to the prescribed neutropenic diet he had to carefully follow. We were sweetly reminded that our motto of “Whatever it takes” was wholeheartedly embraced by Michael who absolutely complained about the diet, but never once strayed from it. What a guy!

Following our extravagant breakfast, we made our way to the Hong Kong Zoological and Botanical Gardens on Hong Kong Island. My little family has been short of laughter and whimsy this year, struggling deeply with a lot of heavy things. One thing bringing lightness into our life has been my older son’s obsession with videos of gibbons. I’d googled “where to see gibbons in Asia” and found you can actually go see many different types of primates for free in the Zoological Gardens! We were smack in the middle of one of the rainiest weeks Hong Kong has seen in a while, but the pouring rain paused right when we arrived. All the animals were in high spirits as the clouds parted, and we walked around laughing, enjoying the ape and monkey antics.

For our next stop, we headed to one of Michael’s favorite restaurants, Smoke & Barrel. He loved meat, especially BBQ or smoked beef. In America he had his own grill, but in Asia we’ve always been limited to high rise flats with no space for a barbecue. So whenever it was a special day for Michael, like his birthday or Father’s Day, we always made sure to take him for a big grilled steak. At Michael’s memorial, a friend and colleague of Michael’s who battled a different kind of cancer gave us an envelope of money with instructions to use it at a place Michael loved to eat. Thanks to the generosity, we didn’t hold back… we ordered smoked brisket, pulled pork, and every side which looked remotely interesting. It was way too much food (we are still getting used to being a family of three instead of four when it comes to ordering or cooking food), but we stuffed ourselves, finishing every bite knowing Michael would never leave anything that good on his plate!

For our final stop, we ducked into a gelato place called Messina to take home a few pints of frozen deliciousness. Michael and his entire family are huge fans of ice cream. If I had a tally of every time the subject of ice cream came up in all the years I’ve been part of the Chase family, it would easily be in the thousands! Last summer when Heidi was here during Michael’s transplant, I took her to Messina, and got schooled in the difference between ice cream and gelato (they are NOT the same thing, who knew? Well, the Chases do, for sure!). So it was perfect to end our Fatherless Day with obtaining an ice cold frozen dessert that is very ice cream like, even if we didn’t actually have any until the next day as we were so full from the BBQ! All in all, a gentle, lovely day together doing some things we know Michael would have loved.

My Father-in-law Jim is well known as a quiet man of few words. It took me some time to get to know him, but when I finally figured him out, I realized he was also quite hilarious.

I’ve struggled with terrible migraines since childhood. During our engagement and early marriage I had them with fierce frequency. One time we’d traveled about 30 minutes from our home in Anaheim to the in-law’s house to spend a full day with the family. Around midday, the telltale signs of a migraine began to hit and I was without my prescription medication to help. Carol, Michael’s mom, told me about the pressure points above the eyebrows which can help relieve pain. She said the best way to keep steady pressure there was to tape a couple of coins to your forehead. Not wanting to cut the family gathering short, I was willing to try anything.

Following dinner, we moved to the living room to watch television. I don’t remember what we were watching, but I do remember passionately ranting about how ridiculous and stupid a character onscreen was behaving. I went on and on about it. And then my father-in-law cleared his throat and spoke up for one of the only times that day. With a sparkle in his eyes and smile on his face, he turned to me and said, You might not be the best judge of ridiculous. You’re the one sitting there with money taped to your head. Everyone was very quiet for a beat and then we all started laughing. That is the pattern with Jim, quietly observing until he’s got a zinger to make us all laugh.

Jim is also a man deeply devoted to service. Every time we moved house in America, he’d show up to help, pushing all us youngsters to keep going and get it done instead of taking breaks. When we lived with my In-laws in 2005 following our return from Hong Kong the first time, Jim would take my older son across town to kindergarten each morning while I stayed home, groggy in my sleepless state with toddler Benjamin. Jim makes lemonade from lemons that grow in his backyard, and it is so good he initially thought I was pulling his leg with my over-the-top enthusiasm for it. When I explained that I truly had never had fresh squeezed lemonade in my life, didn’t even know there was something beyond the chemical-laden Kool-Aid, and that it really was the most delicious thing ever, he began to quickly disappear into the backyard for lemons the moment we walked in the door to make up a fresh batch just for me.

My last visit to America before Covid was a quick solo trip to Los Angeles to renew my driver’s license in person. I stayed with Jim and Carol, but didn’t rent a car, opting to use Uber to get around. On my last full day, I wanted to make a Target run to stock up on stuff to bring home to Hong Kong. Jim insisted I take the family car since Target was nearby and I was planning to get a suitcase full of purchases. I did my shopping and returned to the car to find it had a dead battery because I’d left either the headlights or the dome light on (can’t remember, but it was definitely my fault). I spent several minutes kicking myself for my stupidity before finally calling Jim to tell him about my predicament. He said he’d be right there and pulled up in just a few minutes to jumpstart the car for me. I began to apologize but he cut me off with a shrug, telling me it happens, he was genuinely happy to help.

I made one more stop then needed to call him again when I pulled into the gas station to fill up the tank and could find no way to open the gas cap. It was released with something silly like a button on the floor or the steering wheel which he walked me through patiently, even while I was tempted to cringe at my ineptitude over something incredibly simple. He reminded me how long we’d been out of America and that driving was actually foreign to me at that point. What I will forever remember about that day was how great it felt to be “parented.” I was an independent, grown woman who moved out of the family home immediately after high school graduation, and then spent most of my adult life living abroad far from family. When things went wrong, it was on me to figure them out. But here I was in need of help and a single call to my Father-in-law meant everything was going to be okay. Yes, he did make fun of me sitting there with coins taped to my head, but he never made me feel bad for draining the car battery or not knowing how to open the gas cap. Life can be hard, but Jim has never made my life more hard than it already is, and I’m so grateful for that! Happy 93rd birthday Jim!

One of my favorite things about my own Dad is his great capacity to be silly.

He’s never met a stranger, he will strike up a conversation with anyone and have them laughing in minutes. I love when we are together because when we get going it’s like a comedy act. When I was in high school, our usual Sunday routine was church, brunch (generally Mexican, a tradition that continues to my own little family today), then the big weekly grocery shop before driving an hour home. One Sunday in the grocery store my Dad and I were being complete goofballs while my Mama was very intently gathering everything on the list. We were in the chilled meat aisle and my Dad and I were doing a silly walk where you stand hip-to-hip with your arm around each other, and then take huge, sweeping side to side steps in unison. We were obnoxiously laughing and hogging the whole aisle, most definitely drawing a lot of attention. And then, disaster: one of us tripped the other and with our legs tangled we fell flat on our faces in front of the poultry. My no-nonsense Mama took one look at us laying on the grocery floor in our Sunday best, spun the cart around and exited the aisle, refusing to claim us as her own. It only made us laugh harder.

My Dad also contributed to Michael and I getting together. I’d told my parents about this very forward man who claimed we were destined for one another immediately after meeting on the steps of the Campus Theater at El Camino College. He was the paid staff lighting designer and I was one of the student stage managers on a series of one act plays. My dutiful parents drove down to Los Angeles to see my show, then joined me at the 24-hour coffee shop where the whole cast and crew gathered after closing night. Michael was there and I quietly pointed him out to my parents, that’s the guy, over there. No don’t stare, he’ll see you! When Michael passed our table, my Dad called out to him and introduced himself and my Mama. I am pretty sure I blacked out from embarrassment as I have zero memory of what happened after that, but last year during Michael’s isolation in the transplant ward when we had hours and hours to do nothing but talk and reminisce, he told me all about it. He said that was the encouragement he needed to really pursue me, having met my amazing parents just two weeks after meeting me. Even my parents were thrilled, every other boyfriend I’d had was immediately intimidated by my father. But not Michael, he was his genuine friendly warm self, not scared at all by my Dad, getting along with my parents right from day one. I adore the way Michael and my parents loved each other — I know that isn’t always automatic when two families join up through marriage.

A few years ago I published a piece on why I love the color green so much, which has everything to do with my Dad. Instead of re-writing it all here, I’ll link to it so you can read more about what a great father I had growing up. Click here to read!

That is all for today, a small nod to the great fathers in my life and in my sons’ life. It will probably never cease to be surreal, losing Michael far too soon, having both the fathers in his life outlive him. But I’m grateful to have been surrounded by the very best, and I know both his own father and mine helped shape Michael into the excellent Dad he was to our children. What a gift!

More soon.