100 Days.

It has exactly been 100 days since my Dad passed away and not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about him. It’s been hard to continue writing and updating during the first few months after his passing and I’ve decided to postpone it until today. 100 days after the death of a loved one means many different things to different religions—Some believed that the spirits are reborn after 3, 21, 49 or 100 days (or 7 years, even); some say that the family is in a state of sadness and mourning for 100 days after the burial or death.

Whatever the case may be, if felt right to come back to this today. Besides, I got my documentation streak from Dad (he has stacks and stacks of video tapes of us somewhere in the house!) and I couldn’t just stop writing and capturing moments and adventures.

I wrote this that night, in a flurry of tears and shallow breaths—I wanted to exhaust myself to sleep, hoping, wishing, praying that it was all a very, very bad, horrible, terrible dream. I thought I’d have a chance to read it during his wake but I never got to. Oddly, it didn’t feel right at the time.

To be honest, I don’t quite know what to say anymore… I guess, if you’re reading this, kindly send a thought or a prayer to my Dad.


Tony H. Chan
February 12, 1957 – June 18, 2014

Family, friends—we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of my Dad and to pay him our last respects. Thank you all for coming. This tragic loss fell upon us swiftly and suddenly—No one saw it coming. Not one of us would’ve thought that Dad will leave us so soon. Too soon

He’s the coolest dad our family could ever have and have loved. His bigger-than-life presence at home will really, really be missed. And to tell you the truth, it’s those little, everyday gestures and things that make me long to see him again. We’ll miss the way he persistently calls on us every Sunday to come down for lunch in his loudest CAT Commander voice. We’ll miss the way he keeps asking questions that have already been answered in the same conversation just to mess with us. He does this A LOT. (—so much, that it has become a running joke in our family) We’ll miss our impromptu Tagaytay/ Santa Rosa trips just to get sushi from Ryuma. We’ll miss those Korean ice creams, Yakult packs and squash cakes he brings home to us when he’s feeling especially happy. We’ll miss those back rubs and stretches he gives us when we’re feeling under-the-weather, and the way he keeps scolding me to straighten my limbs when I sleep. We’ll also super miss his amazingly diverse taste in music (that’s sometimes a hit or a miss with the family).

Above all else though, we’ll miss his warmth the most—his energy; his boy-like happiness; his friendliness and openness; his monster bone-crushing bear hugs.

Dad, thank you for being the coolest father we could ever have. Thank you for being a patient driving instructor—for always reminding me to drive defensively. Thank you for always going the extra mile whenever you can. Thank you for the amazing and delicious anniversary dinner last week (June 11). Thank you for the constructive design critique whenever I ask your opinion on the project—Thank you for really speaking your mind and telling me that font is way to small. And Dad… Thank you for being half of the pair that raised my sister and I. I promise to strive to make you proud in every way. You’re the best, Dad! We miss you! We love you!

I love you.

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