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Forever Love

That’s written on my father’s gravestone. It was a saying my mom and him used to say to each other and it was something they both knew they had when they met, Forever Love. 

My father grew up in Burma and he did what everyone else did his age; worked and traveled. He didn’t have much growing up so when he graduated from high school he found a job and lived his life. It was a simple life in Burma, and that was the way my dad liked it. Weekend trips to the Kyaiktiyo Pagoda (Golden Rock) and nightly soccer games with friends. It wasn’t much but it was everything to him.

My mother grew up in Taiwan and was much the same. She had just graduated from college and was working. She loved to travel so the job was a way to earn enough money for the next destination. She was always searching for the next adventure; never in one place long enough to put down roots, never long enough to meet anyone.

They were just two kids enjoying their lives. Only by some lucky chance, good timing, and the help of a friend they found each other. The rest is  history. 

Their love was strong, it was the type of love that Hollywood tries to imitate in their movies. It was the type of love that everyone searches for when they say “things aren’t working out…”. Their love made long distance work before a time of texting and Facebook. It allowed them to start a life together in Canada. Things were simple and they worked. I know what you’re thinking, this is a really quick summary of the “love story” between parents, but in reality it was just that, quick. They met, fell in love, and you can fill in the rest. 

But the story I want to share isn’t the one about how they met, but rather how strong their bond was.

Let me set the stage; it as the day we had the funeral, it wasn’t exactly cold, but it wasn’t warm either. The whole day felt kind of surreal. The last of our family and friends were just leaving the house, and the day was winding down. My mother was exhausted and was heading off to bed.

My mother had just finished one of her longest day of her life and she was physically and mentally spent. She got into bed with heavy eyes but sleep would not have her. Whether it was because of the events prior or it may have been the stresses of the moment, my mother could not find sleep. Any other night her fatigue would have taken her to a deep sleep, but not this night. She rolled and rolled in bed searching for the world of dreams but the train never came. That’s when she decided to turn on her Devotion audiobook ‘Streams in the Desert’. She had found it soothing in the past and had used it when times were tough to help her sleep. The audiobook was designed to be listened to daily, but my mother had not used it in a couple of days so the book was on a random verse. My mom clicked play and listened, inviting sleep to come. She was half listening and half trying to let the day pass. The audiobook found its place and started reading its verse: “You cannot sleep, tossing on the hot pillow, waiting for dawn? Seeking the Spirit of God, so that your mind focused on God, believe that He will make you sad, lonely night singing. Your insomnia is not because of lost loved ones? Thou not know God, this case is close to you, you know off you had peace in God, and happiness is far better than in the ground…” Startled by the accuracy of the moment, my mother sprung awake. In the dark she searched for some sign, she hit the reverse button to make sure she was hearing right and sure enough the verse seemed to speak to her at this moment. Searching in the dark and at that moment her eyes settled on a photo of my father looking lovingly at her. As if telling her that everything he is still here and everything will be okay. At that moment she found peace and knew that he was watching over her, slowly drifting off to sleep.

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The White Camaro

An old story my dad always told me was how he owned a 1980 Z28 Camaro before I was born. He told me it was the first car he owned, and he loved it. It was white with red stripes running around the body, it had a manual transmission, and over 200 horses worth of power. It was the stereotypical american muscle car, and was built not for its practicality but for its raw power. 

When my dad first lived in Fort Nelson, his whole family lived under the same roof. And their neighbour across the street drove a white Camaro. This is the first time my dad had set his eye on this car, and just as I mentioned above, it was love at first sight. He was constantly being called to the window whenever his neighbour went out or came home. The sound of the engine was so unique that my dad knew the sound anywhere he went. Needless to say, the car had made an impression of my father. 

It didn't come easy, but my dad would not settle for anything less and nothing was going to stop him from getting the white Camaro. He told me that as he was saving the money, the white Camaro kept appearing, as if it was teasing him. Saving what little money he made as a machinist to purchase the car of his dreams, it took him a couple years until he finally had saved enough money. Although my father had driven cars before he did not even have a British Columbian drivers licence yet. Appointments had to be made months ahead of time to get tested for your drivers licences because examiners had to make a special trip up to Fort Nelson. He did eventually get his licences before he bought the car. So the search began for the white Camaro, he looked everywhere at the time but to no prevail. Although he did find Camaros he did not find the perfect one. What else could he do, he would be disappointed with anything less. So he just continued his search for his dream car. During this time he and his family had moved from the little town of Fort Nelson, to the big city of Vancouver. But every night he continued to be tormented by the white Camaro. Even with the greater prospects of the bigger city, the white Camaro was still the only car on his mind.

He scoured the classified ads and checked in the lots to find the car: a white Camaro with red stripes on the body and an engine sound that turned heads. Alas on a quiet Sunday morning he had found the white Camaro. Wasting no time he called the seller in the ad. He got off the phone and it was set. They were to meet tomorrow afternoon to test drive the car.

It was a cool fall morning, the sun was out and my dad was in an especially good mood. Finally knowing he was going to see the car of his dreams, he was My father and his brother went down to meet the seller of the Camaro. There it was, parked in the middle of an empty lot, a 1980 Camaro Z28, white with red stripes around the sides. He thought he was dreaming. He turned the keys, the engine roared to life and he knew he was awake.

As you all probably guessed he wanted to buy the car, and planned to meet the seller once again to make the exchange. On the way home he went by the bank to pick up the cash. That's when my dad began to have cold feet.

He began thinking of all the things he could do with the money, he was having second thoughts because he could feel the whole lump sum of money. He kept thinking: "That's a lot of money, I mean its just a car, I worked really hard for this money, do I really need a car right now? That is a lot of money." So those thoughts kept him up all night. And for once the Camaro haunted his dreams. The next morning arrived and he was still having some trouble with his decision. Regardless he was to meet the seller in a couple hours and decided to push it till then to make a final verdict. 

The afternoon came and he went to meet the seller with money in hand. The whole way, he was still struggling with the decision. Finally arriving to see the Camaro again; maybe it was just the way the sunlight was hitting the car, accenting the red stripes, or maybe it was the fact my dad has been dreaming of this car for over two years. Whatever it was, once my father saw the Camaro for the second time he knew he was ready to make it his Camaro. 

My dad told the story of how he got his first car many times too me. I think he wanted to teach me that things didn't come easily but if you had dream, anything was possible. As corny as it sounded, he believed it, and dreams continued to help my father his whole life. Sometimes it might be difficult to see how you can achieve somethings but simply having a dream directs you in the right direction.

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Seven Dollars

In the coming days, I want to launch a series in memory of my father called "Seven Dollars." I want share with everyone seven stories about the life of my father. Stories of hope and love, so everyone could get an idea of what he was like. 

I hope to do it justice and I really don't want to screw it up, so without further ado:

You might wonder why I choose the title for the series to be "Seven Dollars," well that's how much money my dad had in his pockets when he arrived in Canada. 

My dad was born in Myanmar (formerly Burma), and after a couple years out of high school he and his whole family flew out to Canada. They ended up in the small town: Fort Nelson. My father arrived alone on a cold night with nothing but a suit case, the clothes on his back, and 7 dollars in his pocket. Still a young adult, my father was really excited to be in Canada. The first thing he did when he exited the airplane was buy a 50 cents bottle of coke, and strolled out of the airport, 50 cents short. 

Some years later, I found him sitting and looking out the window on a snowy morning. I asked what was on his mind, and he told me he was really fortunate. He had seven dollars in his pocket when he arrived to Canada, and he had turned that into a home, a family, and much more. He had no idea how he did it, but he was just extremely happy with where he was. 

The seven dollars wasn't actually meant for my father. When my dad arrived at the home his family was staying at later that evening, he gave the remainder of the money, 6.50, to his father. He had saved every dollar he made when he was in Burma, and found his way to his family in Canada. The next day, he found work with his brother as a mechanic and the rest was history. He soon found himself moving again, this time to Vancouver. This is where he bought a home, started a family, and became happy. 

This is a story of hard work and determination. My father was only a teenager when he started working and saving money. And instead of spending the majority of it, he saved it. He saved it until he had enough money to learn english, and buy a plane ticket to Canada. He saved that money because he believed that there was something better for his life. Once he arrived in Canada, he worked even harder and longer because he wanted the better life. And all that work paid off, when I found him sitting in front of that window, wondering how he got there. 

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Live Above the Clouds

Here is a photo I took on my way to Hawaii this summer, lots have happen this past year and I haven't really given myself much time to stop and think. 

As most of you know, I have had a major loss in my life. I haven't updated because every time I want to write something I am reminded of him. Two post before I posted about a photo wall, and that was the last "project" we worked on together, and just reading about it reminds me so much of him. Its weird because I wake up to that wall everyday, but all I see are photos. But when I read about putting it together, lots of those emotions come back. To be honest, I have been hiding. I have been hiding from the emotions, I have been hiding from the memories and I have been hiding from myself. 

As I learned, time goes on, and time passes. Theres nothing to stop time from continuing, and it isn't waiting for you. The wounds may heal eventually, or they may not, but it shouldn't scare you from something great.

This past year has been a real punch in the gut. I have had many moments of real happiness and many moments of real sadness. But as I have learned, time doesn't stop for anyone. I need to start letting the healing begin, and allow those memories to help me grow. Allow those memories to be words of encouragement for when things aren't looking good, and begin to face my memories. We need to let ourselves live above the clouds and reach for the stars because we simply waste too much time living anywhere else. 

In two days it will be his birthday, and I can't wait to see where I am in two days. 

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Just wanted to update to say I'm too busy to update. Funny what you can get done when there's so much to do. The picture just shows what I've been up to, and I have to say, for the first time in a long time, I am not complaining. I am very happy with where I am and hopefully this translate across to you guys. Just keep smiling.

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New Art Project.

So I've been following a photographer from Seattle named Chase Jarvis. 

Recently, he had a show in New York. The show was called "An Invitation to Hang" here check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypVadavpwls .

So then I got to thinking that I could do the same with my photos. And with the help of my dad and some elbow grease this is what I got. 

Its just butterfly clips with a washer and a screw. Theres 6 across and 5 down which make for 30 clips on my wall. And 30 pictures.

Half way of filled. I didn't realize picking pictures to put up would be so difficult.

And done.

So now I have a wall of 30 photos up on my wall. and a stack that are getting ready to get up there. Just like Chase Jarvis, I want to change photos on the wall as much as I can, to keep things different. At the same time, if you guys have any photos that want a spot don't be afraid to ask. I'd be more than happy to throw it up there. Also if you want some help putting this together feel free to ask, I would be happy to help.

The plan is that hopefully the display of photos will get me to go out and shoot more. I'm going to try and get out and update the blog more, the summer is here.

More to come later,

Cheers

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luckymag:

Lucky’s April 2011 Cover Girl, Zooey Deschanel 

Isn’t she gorgeous?! I love her polka dot dress!

"To die by your side

 Is such a heavenly way to die"

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Twitter?

Boom, that just happened.

I know I know, I don't keep this updated how will I keep my twitter updated?

thats easy, twitter IS so much easier and its ridiculously addicting.

I'll try and keep going with this blog, its fun writing but I'm not very good at it, and I live a boring life. SO lets give Twitter a try.

Follow me? tweet? what ever the lingo is. @StanTsia8, I'll eventually get into a groove.

k, later.

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I’m coming home I’m coming home tell the World I’m coming home Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday I know my kingdom awaits and they’ve forgiven my mistakes I’m coming home, I’m coming home tell the World I’m coming

This song has been playing in my head all day. These last few weeks have been what I need to get recharged for the new year.

I hope everyones winter break was memorable, christmases celebrated, and new years resolutions made. 2011, here we come.

I look forward to 2011. They say "how you spend new years day is how you will spend the rest of your year," if thats the case, its going to be a fun year. 

Hope to see everyone soon! I'm coming home.

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Today I find myself in hong kong. Its been an crazy unforgettable week, and unhappy to say this is the latter half of the trip. I can't say that I'm missing home just yet, but I'm certain in a couple days I will be feeling just that. We'll see.

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Meet my Nephew Andrew.

I just met him for the first time this trip and I love him to death.

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Look out world.

Its been a marathon sprint these last few days. Finally some time to take a break and breathe again. As most of you know, I'm out of town and seeing family across the globe with my sister.

This is not a post about our days. And it is not a picture dump.

Instead its just a post about how much a love traveling and on my own. 

I do, I really love the feeling of being a different environment. I'm so grateful that my sister is here with me, with her greater command of the mandarin language it has been way helpful. Saying that though, I realized how much I need to practice on it. Its something I never liked but now thinking about how much more I can see and understand, I really wished I did know more. There's always next time.

Anyways continuing on, my sister and I are at my cousin's old newly renovated apartment. It's awesome. And its the perfect place to come again if I decide to travel back here. 

Anyways I'm tired, its been a long time since I've posted. Lots have happened, but I'm really too lazy to update this. I know I said I would be more dedicated to writing on here, But I don't want to write about nothing. Quality over quantity, and I'm going to stick to those words.

I'll try and get some more stuff up, but honestly I like reading more than I do writing. So we'll see when I get posting again. I hope you guys have enjoyed. 

Cheers.

PS: Merry Christmas everyone, and have a happy new year.

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Street lights (Taken with instagram)

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In Other News:

Don't mess.

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Unhappy with how that turned out... Lets try again.

Part 2 coming soon. 

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New York Dump part 1.

More will come as I get stuff done.

Let me know how they are.

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Destination: Home.

Today we head home. The day started early not because we wanted to get up but the heat in the room woke us up. And sleeping was just unbearable. Ryan and I head out for one last stroll and finally meet up with Billy back at the Hostel. And then home.

Billy and Ryan have been great friends to travel with. The three of us has become closer after this trip and hopefully many more trips in the future. I can't say enough good things about these two guys. Yes, there has been fights and we were at each others throats at one point. But we got through the dumbest and ugliest conflicts and come out the other side stronger. I hope to travel with these guys again. They're like my brothers. (no offense Di. You're still my legit brother.) 

Billy and I are just waiting for our flight to board at 7PM. For the most part I think I got a good dose of New York. We got everything we wanted to do done and then more. Nothing was rushed and we found time to do everything we wanted. So this trip has been really fulfilling. Thanks to everyone for reading. Even if you only read one post, or followed the whole trip. It doesn't matter, I'm just happy there's someone reading. And as we wait for our flight to board I can't help but feel a little sad to leave the city that never sleeps. This city has won me over, before this trip I was pumped to come out but I never thought that I would feel sad leaving the city. Even with the bad part of the trip threatening to ruin the city, there is always a bigger and better positive waiting to surprise us around the corner. There is a kind of energy the surrounds the New York that captures you when you're here. From the lights that never turn off to the songs that never stop, I will be back. And even though I am sad to leave this city, I am happy to head home. Home is where I belong, just like the old saying, "Home is where the heart is,"  and Vancouver will always be home for me. I'm excited to see my friends, my family and my bed. Depart in t-minus 1 hour. Destination: Home