The topic of Marie Kondo came up in one of the rare conversations we have altogether as a family. We were in the car, heading back home after the annual pre-Chinese New Year reunion dinner with the extended family on my maternal side.
While I can’t quite remember what led us to chat about the
gentle and soft-spoken tidying guru from Japan, much of the conversation
centered around her famous philosophy of discarding unnecessary possessions
simply by asking oneself, “Does it spark joy?”
In jest, I asked, “Mummy, what sparks joy for you in your
life?”
“My oppas,” she replied candidly without hesitation,
presumably referring to the male stars of the Korean dramas she watches as a
nightly ritual before she heads to bed.
Papa, seated behind the steering wheel, hasn’t spoken a word
since we started about the viral cleaning icon. A simple man of few words, I wasn’t
sure if he was even aware of Marie Kondo’s existence and what she stood for, or
if he was simply too engrossed in driving the family back home safely.
Then again, such a question doesn’t require any context to
answer, so I decided not to leave him out.
“Papa, what about you? What sparks joy in you?”
To my surprise, he seemed to have a prepared answer at hand.
“A peace of mind.”
The car halted at the change of colour of the traffic
lights. Such precise timing – it seemed to add to the impact of Papa’s answer.
His response was a lot more insightful than we were expecting, for a question
that was borne out of a nifty decluttering tip, and I personally wasn’t sure
what to make of it.
Mummy was the first to break the silence. “Because he
doesn’t have a mind to think, so he wants a piece of mind,” she joked.
Ignoring his wife’s very typical comment, Papa started to
elaborate.
“You know, in our Serangoon house, I was always filled with
anxiety.”
This was news to me, as I never knew that he was ever
anxious – he never showed it. And I had a lot of questions. What was he
referring to? What caused him anxiety? Was he referencing Marie Kondo and how our
previous home had a lot more clutter and useless objects lying around?
Turns out, I’ll never actually know if my dad knows who this
Japanese lady is. But what I found out was even more important to me.
He continued, “Making the decision to quit my job to take
care of my mum was such a risky decision. Every single day, when I started my
business, income was unstable, and I was filled with anxiety.”
It has always been made known to me, through the quarrels my
parents had when I was growing up, that my dad sacrificed a lot just to take
care of his mother and seemingly “neglected” us. However, I was never quite
clear of my family’s finances. We had a roof above our heads, food on the
table, and clothes to wear. They weren’t the tastiest meals, nor the fanciest
outfits but they were more than enough to keep me comfortable in my cozy flat.
I knew we weren’t rich but my dad’s apparent financial
worries were well-hidden from me.
“When Kor Kor got into RI, I was extremely worried.”
Even though my brother (and later, myself) was awarded the
scholarship given to students of independent schools, fees for a school like
Raffles Institution, even after the Edusave subsidy, would still be five times
that of a government school.
“But not going to RI was out of the question, I definitely have to send him there,” Papa said, with a tinge of pride – well-deserved, considering his son is due to become a doctor soon (that is, if he passes his final examinations in about a month’s time – good luck bro).
He continued to reveal a bit more about his struggles
providing for the family. The years from 2006 were apparently some of his worst,
where he was constantly plagued with fatigue from caring for his ailing mum and
the responsibility of feeding the mouths of this family, trying desperately to
advertise his business.
At this point, Mummy, who was riding shotgun, was
uncharacteristically silent. I noticed her right hand was a mere few
centimetres away from Papa’s left hand, perched atop the gear stick. I knew
that she was taken aback by his monologue, and half-expected her to grab hold
of his hand.
Then again, in my entire life, I’ve never actually seen my
parents have any form of physical contact with one another. Yes, not even hands
– so that bit remains a little part of my imagination I inserted into this
narrative to add to the atmosphere.
“Life really has its
way of working out,” Papa advised.
He related how he managed to build a consistent pool of
clients, and how Mummy returning to the workforce when I was in Primary Five also
helped ease some of his worries – though he didn’t take a single cent from her
earnings.
“Yes, so a peace of mind, something that I have now, is what
brings me joy.”
A peace of mind. Something so simple yet so difficult to
achieve. Something I surely take for granted. Something that I was able to have at the
expense of someone else’s worries.
Something I should really be thankful for.
Two weeks ago, Papa hit the ripe "old" age of sixty. A pretty momentous number I'd say, and while I haven't been the biggest fan of commemorating birthdays since *age is just a number*, recent events have converted me into becoming a new proponent of simply taking every opportunity to celebrate life. My father, despite his habits of not-drinking-enough-water and constantly-repeating-what-someone-else-has-said-5-minutes-ago, is definitely someone very important to me and I can only hope that he'll feel joy in its purest forms, continue to have a peace of mind, and to stay strong and healthy, in his coming years.
Happy 60th birthday, Papa - thanks for being my biggest supporter in every single thing I do.
Happy 60th birthday, Papa - thanks for being my biggest supporter in every single thing I do.