Ye Ye is gone
But I’ve had another dream about him
In the dream he wasn’t stick thin
He was lively and vibrant, chatting away
We were having breakfast at home
Just a regular day
But something felt strange
I just had to know
Dad, for twenty days you’ve not changed
your red polo?
I don’t remember what happened after
It was dark in the room but I could still hear his laughter
I love working in medicine
Treating people with art, science and reason
But sometimes helping people can be difficult
You try your best but don’t get the result
And everybody is so very different
Yet everybody expects the same:
The perfect outcome for every treatment
And when it’s not perfect some do complain
It is their right, but it sure wrecks your brain
At work you place others first every minute (and sometimes even once they’re out of sight)
And one unhappy person can lose you sleep overnight
You’ll learn some things are beyond your control
Though you wish they weren’t because it sure takes a toll
You’ll find some perceptions of you can be cold
Sometimes you’ll feel like you just want to fold
But ultimately I know who I am
I genuinely care and try as hard as I can
I use what I learn, always seeking information
Anything to make me a better clinician
Working in medicine can be tough
There is so much at stake
Disappointing even one person can lead to heartbreak
It really tests how much stress a human can take
Working in medicine can be rough
But when the day ends
Lying down feeling spent
I think about all the good that’s been done
And that’s enough
Ye Ye was a dad during a different time
Things not done now were back then fine
I remember having to pick which cane
(or sometimes it was just the belt)
I can’t remember the pain
Though I can still feel my finger caressing the welts
It was a different form of discipline
Not much room for bargaining
When he was tempered he had a thunderous voice
His own way to show love for his boys
Ye Ye’s mission was just for us to be good
Have a home, a good job, and not lack for food
Although we may not have done all that he wished
He was content in the end
Dad,
Mission accomplished.
Ye Ye was always up for
a hot bowl of noodle soup
He’d cup his hands into a bowl
Shape his mouth into an O
“Don’t you just feel like a bowl of pho?
Most times we would go.
Invariably there were also times
when his boys wouldn’t give in
And so Ye Ye being Ye Ye
though he’d much rather soup
in the end
would let us win
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Poems for My Sons 