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Overseas Chinese Democracy Coalition News and Article Release
Issue: A39-G14
中国民主运动海外联席会议新闻与文章发布号：A39-G14
Release Date: November 20, 2003
发布日：2003年11月20日
Topic: In Memorial of my Father (Ciping Huang's diary on November 20,
2003)
标题：悼父祭文 (黄慈萍日记：2003年11月20日)
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In Memorial of My Father (Ciping Huang's diary on November 20, 2003)
It has been a busy and tiring day. Nevertheless, I want to write down
something for today. The third anniversary of daddy's departure has
come.
Yesterday, I was too busy to write down anything, or even eat lunch.
But the evening was occupied by dining treated by friends then coming
back to work on the long overdue newsletters until about 2am. Ate too
much to stay awake. I guess I must be one of the most weird animals in
its food consumption living on this world - covering the whole
spectrum of possible food from the state level banquets, to (like the
old time monks) a lot of free meals and dinners offered by all sorts
of people when I was with Wei Jingsheng, down to 12 cents a bag
instant noodle. Much more instant noodles. I surely miss my good old
days when I was on business trips for American companies, to eat
whatever I wanted, and to do whatever I wanted.
I got up very early to take care of the newsletters' distribution and
also prepare for foundation's board meeting. I also called mom and
sister to make sure they are ok. Mom asked again: "Will you be able to
come home for a visit?" I answered: "Of course." She asked: "When?"
Another standard reply: "soon".
At 10:30 am, I ran to the US Senate to attend the Robert F. Kennedy
Memorial human rights Award ceremony with Wei Jingsheng, for which Wei
is one of the Laureates. Then more errands in DC, getting frustrated
with simply business but poor service. Handle the ongoing board
meeting. Pay bills. Reply e-mails that request immediately attention
with the promise of getting back to them tomorrow. Run to the airport
for the last flight. The gate door was already closed. But they
reopened the door to let me get on the airplane. Tired. Fall into
sleep immediately.
Saw father standing in front of my eyes...
It has been three years since my father passed away. Three years is
supposed to mark an end for the mourning. Yet, for me, it does not.
Three years have passed, not only was I not allowed to attend my
father's funeral, nor am I able to visit his tomb in China.
In the last three years, I barely talk about my father in public,
although I often thought of him and dreamed of him - on my birthdays,
on his birthdays, on the anniversary of his decease, on Chinese New
Year Days, on Western New Year Days, on Mid-Autumn Festivals, on his
favorite (Chinese) September 9's days, on the 100 degree hot summer
days when my niece preparing for her college entrance exams would also
make me recall my moderate father who quietly fanned my back in the
hot room without an electric fan, not to mention air conditioning, so
I could study... all the time, all the days...
I avoid to talk about him in front of people, for I do not want be
overwhelmed by great sadness, but when I am writing about him now,
when I am even thinking of him, especially when I think of the last
time we were together, I could not control my tears...
There were times I would have the impulse to call him, and then
realize that he is not there anymore. We never really said goodbye. We
never really parted. Really. Don't you say?
Three years past, yet it never comes to come to a closure. Rationally,
maybe. Emotionally never, to accept the fact that my father has gone
to the other world.
Just three weeks ago, I saw the latest photos of Wei ZiLin, Mr. Wei
Jingsheng's father. At the age of 83, he looked so fragile and his
eyes struggled. I know how much he wishes to see his children; all of
them are in exile and separated in three different countries. And I
have no confidence that he could make his days to see any of them
again.
Tears streamed down to my face when I saw Wei's photos, for I would
not want to see anyone go through what I went through, even though I
know many who would not give up their beliefs and actions for freedom
and democracy in China.
My father's name is HUANG QinMao. Born into a several hundred year old
intellectual family in HuangYan, ZheJiang Province. To me, my father
always was the "poster boy" of a traditional Chinese man. He was
humble and modest with a very good temper, adequate attitude, yet
self-conscious, with excellent calligraphy (see link of his last
calligraphy for me: http://weijingsheng.org/pic/newsletters/newsletters2003/calligraphy9910dad-4.jpg)
and other intellectual capacities - an important reason that my
grandfather agreed to and was happy with his daughter's marriage to my
father. Like other Chinese, my father struggled all his life to avoid
political persecution. Yet, he was still unable to escape the
misfortune of his life at the end. (Links for my parents' wedding
photo: http://weijingsheng.org/pic/newsletters/newsletters2003/parents5901wedding-5.jpg
and our family together: http://weijingsheng.org/pic/newsletters/newsletters2003/family7103HCP-5.jpg)。
My father was not a brave man, and he become even shyer after his
stroke in the 1980's that disabled parts of his capacities and even
paralyzed half of his body for some period. He never fully recovered.
In April 1998, when I "disappeared" with a group of unknown people
(big and strong ones from the secret police) from home, in front of
him yet unable to tell him who they were and where I was sent to, he
was terrified. As he saw me get escorted into one of the waiting
automobiles where more police were, he went to panic. He immediately
had my sister to call every place he thought I could be, where of
course I was not there.
On the day of my deportation, not sure if they were sending me to jail
or kicking me out of the country, I got 20 minutes to pack for the
departure and say good bye to my parents at home. Knowing that could
be our last moment together, I tried to reach my father in the
presence of the police team that had squeezed him into a corner of the
crowded room.
As I walked toward to my father, trailed with the police, he moved
further toward the wall. I tried to give him a hug and say something
good, but he was so frightened that he moved away to the wall. So I
grabbed his hand and told him that things will be just fine and asked
him to take care of himself. I looked into his eyes, but they were
full of fear, and he turned his head away.
This is the scene that I have played so many times in my head ever
since. Virtually every time I thought of my poor father, my heart
bleeds and my tears drop! Since my childhood, with one political wave
after another, I had came to know that I must be careful of not bring
my family trouble and my father was not someone who could protect me.
That did give me a better chance to be strong and independent.
Nevertheless, as the famed "parent-respecting daughter" that my
parents were always proud of that finally caused all the turmoil to
the home, I do not want to picture the tremendous pressure my father
had to endure. Of special sadness is for him to look at the "obey the
4 Communist Party Principles" plaque every time he got out the door.
The plaque was placed after I was gone, if it has the function of
political hygiene.
With such a tremendous change, not surprisingly, soon my father got
ill. On September 1999, he was rushed to the hospital and remained in
critical condition. As I flew back to China, I was stopped by dozens
of police right at Shanghai Airport - they were carrying out their
promise of punishment for me not doing what they wanted. As they
stated that I could be damaging the national security for coming back
to my country, I pleaded to see my father on humanitarian grounds and
to let them monitor me as they wished. But these pleas only served as
the great bargain chip for them to force me "behave". So I was turned
away.
Although my dad was so sick with late stage liver cancer, he did not
die immediately as the doctors' diagnosed. For the rest of the 14
months of his life, he pulled back several times from the edge of
death (see the last photo of my father in October 1999: http://weijingsheng.org/pic/newsletters/newsletters2003/last0010dad.jpg).
I know how much he had hoped to see me even though he was short of
expression, especially due to his stroke. I still have a handwritten
letter my father had written to me after my deportation. When I
received it, I was really surprised, for he had not written letters to
me for nearly 10 years. From the letter, you could tell how much he
had worried about me, instead of himself.
Every time I wanted to go back to visit him, the National Security
Police would put out their conditions and requests. After my father
died, the conditions were presented again for attending his funeral
and burial. To the end, I did not see my father alive, nor at his
funeral.
The old Chinese verses talked about the difficulty to keep the moral
life, especially between one's loyalty to the country and to the
family. It was easy to say, but difficult to endure. On one end, it
never came to a closure for me, to accept the fact that I would never
see my dad again. On the other end, this great sadness does encourage
me to work harder for fairness and justice, human rights and democracy
in China, so the other people would not have endure what I had to.
This is the only comfort I could get from my father's departure.
This is my eulogy for the day. Rest peacefully, daddy.
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中文版
Overseas Chinese Democracy Coalition News and Article Release Issue:
A39-G14
中国民主运动海外联席会议新闻与文章发布号：A39-G14
Release Date: November 20, 2003
发布日：2003年11月20日
Topic: In Memorial of my Father (Ciping Huang's diary on November 20,
2003)
标题：悼父祭文 (黄慈萍日记：2003年11月20日)
Original Language Version: Chinese
(English at beginning, Chinese version at the end)
Please visit our website if you have problem to read Chinese in this
issue
此号以中文为准（英文在前，中文在后）
魏京生基金会及中国民主运动海外联席会议以推动中国的人权与民主为己任。
我们欢迎任何形式的帮助与贡献。我们愿与世界上为人权与民主而奋斗的人们一起努力。
我们希望您能够帮助我们散发我们的资料。但请标明出处与我们的网址：
www.weijingsheng.org
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慈萍日记：2003年11月20日
每天都是又忙又累，写日记时候，通常眼皮和笔一样沉重如铅。但是今天要写——今天是爸爸过世三周年的日子。
岁月的繁忙可以最具体表现在吃饭上。象昨天那样不吃中饭的情形并不少见。有的时候与魏京生在一起吃饭，常象古代的和尚吃百家饭，怀着“能化不少缘”的心情。偶尔运气，竟也吃得上国宴级大餐，但“享受”过后也有麻烦，困得支撑不住了，肿胀的肚皮还是不肯松弛下来。但更多的时候，面对的是一毛二分钱一包的方便面。面对到腻透了的地步，不免怀念起过去在公司出公差时的美羹和逍遥。
今天早早起来，赶快把其中的一期新闻发出，并为基金会的董事会会议做准备。然后给妈妈姐姐打电话，希望在父亲的忌日，给她们一点儿安慰。妈妈一开口就是老话："能回来看看吗？"我不假思索："当然"。"啥时能回来？""很快。"那已经是重复了不知道多少遍、却不知何时可以兑现的标准回答。
上午十点三十，陪同魏京生一起去美国国参议院参加罗伯特肯尼迪纪念会人权奖的颁奖仪式。魏是该奖的得主。回来以后便埋头于一大堆杂务之中：开董事会、付帐单、回复积压的电邮都是简短的保证：“明天会认真仔细回复”。然后奔到机场追赶末班飞机。我甜言蜜语加恳切哀求，才总算敲开了已经关闭的机舱大门。上了飞机，困倦便不可阻挡地把我淹没了。
一睡着，爸爸竟然找来了，他活生生地站立在我的面前！
爸爸已经去世整整三年。原来以为，三年本应是哀悼期之终。但此恨此伤，对我竟是绵绵无期。恨的是三年前我未能参加他老人家的葬礼，伤的是至今未能到他的坟头跪地一拜。
过去的三年里，我经常梦见、想到爸爸。他的生日、春节、元旦、中秋，以及他喜欢的重阳节，都会使我想到他。别人提起他们的父母，以及任何我所接触到的合家团圆的描述和场面，都会牵动我的伤感和思念。就连我外甥女参加高考，也勾起了我的回忆：在我高考的暑热季节，在没有风扇更不要说是空调的家中，爸爸如何地默默地为汗流浃背的我送来凉风……。
这般地想念父亲，却在人们面前连提起他的勇气都没有。因为我知道，我无法控制住已经浸透我全身的悲哀。我现在写着他、想着他，回忆起我们最后一次相处的时光，眼泪已经夺眶而出……。
有时我会突发奇想，强烈地想给他打个电话。为什麽不呢？我们从来没有说过永别，也不曾分别过。
虽然已经三年，我还是不能接受他已经不在人世的事实。
三个星期前，我看到了魏京生的父亲魏梓林的近期照片。83岁高龄的魏父显得憔悴而衰老。我在想，老父亲一定非常希望见到他的孩子吧？但是，时事无情，岁月无情，不知道他能不能够等到那一天。
望着魏父的照片，我的眼泪止不住哗哗落下。虽然理性中我明白，为了一个民主与自由的中国，即使是一个孝子孝女，也必须付出这样的代价。但是，我多么不希望别人再遭受我所经历的悲哀！
我的父亲叫黄钦茂，他出生于浙江省黄岩的一个书香门第。父亲是一个标准的“老实人”，谦虚、勤奋、温和、书法优美，是我外公最称心的女婿。然而，如同其他的中国人一样，父亲一生小心谨慎，却到头来也逃不过政治上的迫害。（见相片联接：父母之结婚照
http://weijingsheng.org/pic/newsletters/newsletters2003/parents5901wedding-5.jpg及我儿时的全家福http://weijingsheng.org/pic/newsletters/newsletters2003/family7103HCP-5.jpg）。
坦诚地说，父亲并不是一个勇敢的人物。他在八十年代得了脑淤血，失去了部分表达能力与活动能力以后，就变得更加小心翼翼了。1998年4月，当不相识、也不给姓名的国安部警察们来到我家，在我父母面前把我带走时的时候，父亲惊吓不已。他马上给我还在上班的姐姐打电话，要求她想尽办法把我找回来。当然，他们没有能力找到。
在我被递解出境的那一天，国安部警察们给了我二十分钟的时间回家取衣物并与家人道别。那个时候，家人和我都感到前途未卜，不知道我会被送去监狱还是别的什么不为人知的地方。我虽然多少有些心理准备，父母们则因为意外和惊吓而惶恐不安。当小小的屋里挤满了警察的时候，父亲被无助地挤缩在一个角落里。
我走向父亲，想给他一个拥抱，——不知道是不是最后一个拥抱呢，心里充满了酸楚。但是出乎我的意料，父亲望着我身后的警察，自己一步步地向墙根退去！我只得跟着一步步地走向前，最后拉住他的手，细声告诉他不会有事，要他好好照顾自己。这个时候，我从他的眼睛里看到了胆怯、惊诧和恐惧。
这是我无法忘怀历历在目的情景！一幅我每每回想便心内流血的记忆！自小我就懂得政治的残酷，懂得必要的小心，以免给家人带来麻烦。也许正是因为知道父亲无力保护我，才进一步使我自强与独立。父亲向后退去，当然不是不爱我，而是他不知所措，生怕什么“不适当”的举动将事态恶化。而且，我走了，每日面对残酷现实的，则是我的家人。我无法想象，这次事件以后朋友与邻居们都羡慕的"孝女"给家里带来的动荡与麻烦，无法想象，我走后他们在我们家门前立的"坚持四项基本原则"的牌子会给父亲带来何等的压力！
这样的动荡和压力，不久就把父亲拖垮了。1999年9月，他被送进医院，生命垂危。我接到他的病危通知书后立即飞回中国，但被大批的警察堵在上海机场。警察们冰冷的面孔里嵌着没有人道的眼睛，他们盯着我，要我“改过自新”，亲情在他们那里只是一个要挟的工具。因为没有愿望“改过自新”，我也就失去了在父亲病床前尽最后一份孝心的机会。
当时父亲已是肝癌后期，医生都惊讶他的顽强生命力。他在生命线上几度挣扎，几次病危。希望的信念使他奇迹般地拖活了14个月，我不知道，他是不是硬撑着，想要熬到见我一面的一天。但我终于让他失望了！（见他过世前一个半月为我照的照片联接：http://weijingsheng.org/pic/newsletters/newsletters2003/last0010dad.jpg
与父亲留给我的最后遗墨：http://weijingsheng.org/pic/newsletters/newsletters2003/calligraphy9910dad-4.jpg）。
在此期间，我多次要求回家探望以尽一份孝心。但我的孝心成了中共绑架我的民主与自由信念的希望。我每一次要探望父亲的心愿，都在他们的胁迫失败后严加拒绝。父亲过世以后，我希望参加他的葬礼，中共把这当成最后一次的胁迫机会。当然他们没有得逞，但是我，也因此终究没能在父亲的葬礼上露面。父亲生前我不能安慰他、伺候他，死后也不能参加他的葬礼，这千古之恨，有谁能解？
古言道:“忠孝不能双全”。现在我才体会到，这6个字，真是用血泪写成的啊！我只希望他人不必再步我的后尘。从这一点上，父亲的逝世给我的唯一安慰是，我将全心全意地努力，以期他人不必再受此辱、遭受此痛。
此恨绵绵无尽期。
含泪写下这些文字，为悼父祭文。
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