The first time I walked into Becky's Counseling Center, I was filled with trepidation. I spent nearly half an hour recounting all my troubles, stresses and disappointments. The usual culprits were there - work-related pressures and the helplessness that comes with societal upheavals. But there was something deeper, a sense of despair that stemmed from collective failures in large-scale social movements.
Having lived for over thirty years, I used to think of myself as a confident man with enough life experiences to deal with any setbacks. It was only when real challenges crept upon mewhen I realized how fragile and vulnerable I really was.
My dear friends Kevin and Penny were the first to notice that I was on the brink of collapse when disasters struck my family six months ago. Apart from grandma,the most important people in my life were my parents and Lolly, with whom I had been for many years and planned to marry.
I grew up in a well-off family. My father inherited the family business and ran a bookstore in the shopping mall in our housing estate where we lived. My mother was a full-time housewife who occasionally brought home a large bag of semi-finished clothing to make and sell, helping to support our family during the booming garment industry era. As an only child, I did well in school and was fortunate enough to study in the UK, where I graduated with flying colors in Computer Systems Engineering from a well-known university. Crowned with pride and honor, I returned to Hong Kong and landed a promising job in a large company.
My life was never one of extravagance, but it was comfortable and stable. Little did I know that this mirage of contentment would be shattered by a community redevelopment project.
I remember the day we received the notice. It was a normal Friday afternoon when almost every host on every radio shows talk about how they were going to spend the weekend. I went home early as I was attending a seminar, and turned the fan on as soon as I entered the living room. It was a very humid day but mum and dad just sat there as if they felt nothing - and soon I understood why: We were asked to vacate the shop within three months due to redevelopment, and were caught completely off guard by the news. After discussing it, my mother and I both thought it was a good opportunity to bring the bookstore to a dignified close. As for my father, who was already in his sixties, it was time for him to retire and enjoy a more leisurely life.
But my father had a completely different opinion.
For him, the bookstore was the fruit of his father's hard work, a family legacy not to be abandoned without a fight. It was not just a business, but also a community hub, fostering connections and neighborhood identity . He saw himself as its guardian, and was unwilling to let go . He searched everywhere, hoping to find a reasonably priced place nearby. However, like other public housing estates at the time, what was once a small community with old-style tenement buildings were evolving into new-style residences and commercial buildings. All that glitzy shop fronts came with a matching cost, and we were priced completely out of the area.
One possibility was to operate the bookstore inside an industrial building on some upper floors, but my father insisted on a ground level shop. How could we retain the unique community atmosphere otherwise? Desperate, he contacted an old friend who was familiar with the real estate business for help.
And that bastard turned out to be a swindler. After cheating my father out of a large sum of money, he disappeared without a trace, and all of the rental agreements were forged documents. Poor Dad lost his life savings because of his trusting nature - honesty and kind-heartedness, old fashioned virtues from a bygone era, left him exposed in this deceitful business society.
As the saying goes, "misfortunes never come singly." The nightmare for my family had only just begun.
One morning, after a grocery trip, my mother came home to find my father lying motionless on the couch.
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