Mary Li’s Tribute to Baba
4/30/05

Ching Fang Hsu was a very loving and affectionate father. He happily worked at multiple manual labor jobs, often at the same time, to support us. Before opening the Harbin restaurant, he worked as a custodian, a steel polisher, and a gardener. He had never done manual labor before, yet he never complained about the hard work.

But as a child, I did not appreciate his heart. I wanted him to be like my friends' fathers who wore suits and ties to work and smelled of cologne. Instead, my father would come home in dirty, greasy overalls. His hands were calloused. The knuckles were broken from being jammed in machinery. I did not appreciate that he was disfigured because he was sacrificing himself for his family. Everything he did, he did for us.

I am not saying that my father was perfect. No one is. He would irritate us when he would repeatedly remind us to fill up the gas tank or be on time. That’s because he was thorough in all that he did. He expected the same of his children. He would tell us to study hard, to have faith, to do our best, and not be risk-averse. As an adult, I complained to my husband about my father's nagging. My husband said, how can you be upset when your father is caring for you?

As I grew up, I came to appreciate deeply my father’s loving heart and thorough nature. When he died, he left no unfinished business. There was nothing that should have been said that was not said. Nothing that should have been done that was not done. He told us in word and deed that he loved us. He knew that we loved him, too. Often, he said that his joy was knowing that his children loved and respected him. We are so proud to be his children.

In the past few years, whenever I would call, he would say, hello, precious daughter. I would respond, hello, precious father. I am comforted to know that when we meet in heaven one day soon, I will again be able to say hello, precious father. Thank you, God, for giving us a dedicated father who did his all to give his children a better future.