End of an Era

Unlike most of my postings, this one isn’t full of sarcasm; it’s me reflecting back on recent events and, to an extent, it’s my attempt at a tribute to a man I never fully got to know.

The photo above is from our wedding and it remains one of my favourite photos of my father-in-law, Osot Nakngam, or, as the Thais would say, Dad. It may not look like he’s smiling, especially compared to my mother-in-law, but, to those of us who knew him, that’s a smile and he was genuinely happy that day. Why he didn’t have a big toothy smile is anyone’s guess; could be all the years working for the government or it could be he was simply uncomfortable showing a big smile.

After nearly ten years in Thailand, I’m ashamed to say I still have not mastered the language. It’s not actually that hard, I was just busy, lazy and often around Thai’s who could speak English, hence, I lacked a true motivation to learn. That all changed a few months ago … the lack of motivation that is.

Somewhere near the end of August Dad was diagnosed with late stage lung cancer. As I witnessed his health quickly deteriorate, I realised that he and I had never really had a proper conversation. The closest thing to an engaging conversation was in China several years ago; I was translating between a waiter who was speaking rudimentary English and then using my equally limited Thai skills to converse with Dad. It was comical to say the least.

Fast forward to Sep 2006, I’m sitting beside Dad’s hospital bed and my Thai is no better than that humorous evening back in China. Knowing that cancer patients can go quickly or last much longer than expected, I enrolled in a Thai class with the determination to get over the language hump and maybe be able to have a conversation with Dad. Now, I didn’t expect to be discussing “War and Peace” with my father-in-law within a few months time but I figured any progress I made was worthwhile, both short term and long term.

And I was right; the newly acquired language skills came in handy during my daily visits to hospital. While I never did get to have a real conversation with Dad (without a translator), at least I understood some of his requests and was able to assist him with small things during his final months … and every now and again I’d catch him smiling as I struggled through some of my homework with Kay.

My favourite smile story, however, is from just a few weeks ago. I had been at hospital for a few hours when Kay arrived; the nursemaid slipped outside to update Kay on the day’s events. As it was around 9pm, Dad was ready to sleep … and he wasn’t shy about saying he was ready to sleep. I was sitting next to the bed, holding his hand and I assured him it was ok for him to sleep. But that wasn’t good enough for Dad, if he was going to sleep, I should be going to sleep too. He mustered up enough strength to move himself over in the bed and then motioned for me to lie down next to him.

Even though I wasn’t tired, I figured what the hell, if it makes Dad happy and he goes to sleep, then it’s worth the effort to pretend I’m tired. I lowered the bed rail, kicked off my shoes, got on the bed and put my arm around Dad … I saw a big smile and shortly after that heard him snoring.

Kay and the nursemaid re-entered the room and were literally biting their tongues trying not to laugh at me balanced on the edge of the bed. Kay got close enough for me to whisper an explanation; she had a huge smile and tears welled up in her eyes. Within a few minutes we figured out how to extract me from the bed and slip Kay in … of course Dad woke up during that process but he was equally happy having his daughter hugging him and quickly fell back to sleep.

That was the last time any of us were able to give him a proper hug, from the next day he had tubes and IV’s that prevented us from getting into bed with him. It’s also when his mind started to lose focus, probably due to the medications. But he still recognized us right up to the end; he would always at least nod when we announced our selves and, on Father’s Day (5 Dec), he acknowledged my pledge to look after Kay & Mom once he was gone. A few hours later, he slipped into a coma; Mom, Kay, the nursemaid and myself at his bedside.

Dad died peacefully in his sleep today, 6 Dec, just after 12 noon. He’s at peace now and I know he’s happy, every now and again I can see his smile as I continue to fumble my way through the Thai language.