2 Life Lessons I Learned From Having Coffee With My Dad

Two important life lessons I learned from spending an hour at the local Starbucks with my dad.

It’s Friday morning and I’m at my parents’ house working on my blog. My dad’s downstairs doing his thing.

My dad’s a routine guy.

Every Friday, he wakes up at the crack of dawn, has a small bite to eat (usually oatmeal or bread), goes on the treadmill while watching the Chinese morning news, takes a shower, drops a deuce, heads out for coffee, comes home to grab my mom to have dim sum and buy groceries.

Like clockwork…

He’s the early bird and my mom’s the night owl.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones or the fact that I’m having a son…but that day, I felt a need to get to know my dad. So I decided to ask him if I could join him for coffee.

Well, that probably sounds easy if your dad’s frickin’ Danny Tanner.

***HUGS***

My dad and I are like oil and water. Deciding to emulsify that relationship gave me all sorts of anxiety.

“How should I ask him?

What should I say?”

“When should I ask? Before his shower? After his shower? While he’s on the treadmill? When he’s about to go out?”

I’m a grown-ass woman who is secure with her feelings, shows vulnerability and asks for what she wants; however, when it comes to my parents, I still struggle, reverting back to a teenage version of myself.

Instead of saying,

“Dad, I want to spend some time with you. Let’s go for coffee.”

I ask him,

“Where are you going for coffee? I haven’t had mine yet. Can I come with you to get it?”

He drives. We start talking about surface-level stuff, specifically his most recent purchase, an air fryer.

He’s excited to tell me about this YouTube video he watched on Taiwanese chicken nuggets and goes into detail about how to prepare and air fry them.

He’s raving about his air fryer.

He tells me that it’s not about being healthy and eating less fat but sometimes he just wants to eat some damn fried chicken without the inconveniences of frying it in oil such as:

After frying, the oil smell of whatever he fried lingers in the house for weeks.

Discarding the oil is a nuisance.

Oil splatter is a pain to clean

No, this isn’t a sponsored post for an air fryer.

My dad is a man who rarely spends money on frivolous things. His dissertation on the air fryer is his way of justifying his decision to splurge.

From the little boy who grew up in Hong Kong, carrying water down the hill with his 7 brothers and sisters to now the retired old man who’s driving a brand new hybrid, having a tall blonde with his youngest daughter, my dad’s practicality and matter-of-fact demeanour never left him.

We get to a pause in the conversation. I muster up the courage to ask, to prod, to bring the level down a notch.

I ask,

“So are you more like ye ye (paternal grandpa) or ma ma (paternal grandma)?”

He looks perplexed,

“What do you mean?”

I repeat the question,

“Like personality-wise, are you more like your mom or dad? Or a blend?”

He takes a moment to think,

“Your ye ye didn’t talk much. He was a very quiet and simple man. He followed your ma ma.”

Then he elaborates; his eyes light up as he begins his story.

He shares with me that his parents taught him 2 life lessons that he’s carried on with his own family: one from his dad and one from his mom.

First Life lesson: Own my mistakes

My dad started working when he was 13 years old. He went to night school to complete his secondary education.

Before his first day of work, my ye ye sat him down and gave him a long lecture about making a living and the responsibilities of having a job.

He taught my dad:

“Whatever I do in my job, I am the only one accountable. If I fuck up, I own it; it’s on me, not anyone else.

My parents can’t cover for me or help me. They don’t have the resources, the skills or the capacity. They have 7 other mouths to feed so I have to deal with my own screw-ups.”

Reflecting on my ye ye’s words, it’s very much how I was raised and how I want my children to grow up.

My parents taught me that they will always have a home for me if I need it; however, with anything else, their hands are tied and it’s up to me to be self-sufficient, digging myself out of whatever mess I got into.

Second Life Lesson: Don’t go mad for the money

My dad loved his mom with every bit of his heart. He misses her every day.

As he begins to tell me the second life lesson, his eyes gaze away from me towards the window. We’re both watching frantic holiday shoppers migrate from store to store while he reminisces.

My ma ma ruled the household with an iron fist. Food was scarce and money was tight. She did what she could to feed her family and in turn, instilled humility in my dad.

She taught my dad:

“Don’t go mad for the money. Don’t get obsessed about the cash. Making money isn’t everything. I just need to make enough to live on, to survive and to take care of my family.

Find a job that gives me a steady income every month, that pays for decent clothes and food on the table. It need not be fancy.

Don’t starve. Don’t get cold. I don’t need a thick expensive jacket to keep the cold out. I just need a jacket.”

Reflecting on my ma ma’s words, it’s validated my views on money and materialism.

External motivation only goes so far.⁣ Internal motivation stems from having the confidence and self-sufficiency in my financial affairs that allow me to live to work instead of working to live.⁣

I mean don’t get me wrong, I need money to live. I need money to buy food, pay my rent or mortgage, raise my kids…etc.⁣

But at what point does money stop offering value to my happiness?⁣

It’s an important lesson that I plan to pass on to my kids, to not get trapped in the vicious cycle of justifying the unhappiness with the cash.⁣

As my dad finishes his last sip of coffee, he glances at his watch. It’s 10 o’clock.

“Let’s head back. Your mom should be ready now.”

So Readers, do you struggle asking to spend time with your parents? What are some life lessons you’ve learned from them?

This was originally published on my website on December 11, 2019.