Tea is the Best Medicine

May 2023

I was turning 60 soon, and I was meant to be travelling to Europe to celebrate with dear friends and Bruce’s family, some of whom were also celebrating big birthdays (Glen Jackson turned 80 this year and Neil, the youngest Jackson brother, turned 70). I had only one hesitation: my dad. For the last four weeks, he had not eaten anything and had spent most of his time in a deep slumber. On the rare occasions he did wake up, he would drink a few drops of water, then go back to sleep.

Despite this puzzling situation, his health did not seem to be getting worse, and eventually I felt peace to continue with the trip. On our first stop in Porto, Portugal, we had a lovely time catching up with one another, remembering Bruce and his sister, Linda, and rejoicing for the many blessings in our lives. I called home often to check in with my brother, Joe; everything seemed fine. It was a joyous time.

After the party in Porto, our big group of around 20 went in different directions: some of the Jacksons flew back to the US and other parts of Europe, and I took the train up to Lisbon, Portugal’s capital, with Janie & Neil Jackson’s family and a few close friends (Brian & Carrine Woo and Benjamin & Mercy Chua). We planned to have some smaller get-togethers there, with a bit of sightseeing and business for me (Hayco has a factory in Lisbon).

On our first night in this new city, we went out to eat at one of my favourite seafood spots; it was close to our hotel. On the walk there, at around 720pm, Carrine saw a ladybird that really seemed to like my shirt: it kept crawling amiably (or should I say Amiiably) around my collar, happily doing its own thing. Never mind that my shirt wasn’t even flower- themed that day… When we saw it, we acknowledged it was a sweet moment, and I even invited the little critter to come join us for dinner. He politely declined and flew off, so we kept walking.

After dinner, the Chuas, Woos and I visited a local supermarket to browse cured meats and cheeses we could bring back to our families. As we were checking out, I got a buzz in my pocket: it was my brother. Dad had passed away at the equivalent of 728pm Lisbon time.  I didn’t know what to feel: my heart raged back and forth as the news sunk deep into my gut.

On the one hand, I was devastated that I could not be with dad when he died. On the other, I thought about the little ladybird and the way God had used cute insects — like moths and lantern flies, as well as butterflies — to remind me of His love and to assure me that those I cared about were safe in His arms. I thanked my Heavenly Father that my earthly dad had died peacefully, without pain. As I stood, processing it all, Carrine hugged me and everyone gathered round to comfort and pray with me.

We started walking back towards the hotel and my feelings continued to flip from shock, to grief, to gratitude. As we were crossing the road, Mercy spotted a large butterfly tattoo on the arm of a lady directly in front of us: another sign that God was with me and things would be OK. I took a few breaths and held on to Carrine’s arm.  

Back at the hotel, we took the lift up to the bar and reminisced about my dad. Over soft drinks, Benjamin asked what my dad's favorite food or beverage was. I couldn't think of a specific food, but I shared that he loved Pu’er tea. At this, Brian exclaimed: “I actually have some in my backpack! Maybe we can drink some in his honour?” We laughed about the way my dad insisted on drinking the tea with his dim sum, no matter what else was on offer. I was glad I could share this silly detail with my friends.

The next day, we pressed on with our plan to visit the big statue of Jesus that looked out over the city of Lisbon. It would be nice to see my beloved Saviour holding the people of this place like I needed Him to hold me. Neil and Janie were joining us for this day trip, too, and at the top of the statue, on the viewing platform, we were able to pray together. The sense of family — and especially Bruce’s family — felt so real, even though I was far from home. At the end, after we lifted our heads, I felt the weight of grief lift a little; I did not have to be captive to sorrow if I was with loved ones on earth and God was looking after the rest of my family in heaven.

Later that day, I found out from Joe that our group’s conversation about the tea was even more poignant than we realised. Just under an hour before my dad passed away, Joe had had an epiphany: why not let dad have a few sips of his cherished Pu’er tea instead of the usual water? The thought would not leave his mind: Joe reasoned that perhaps this was the last thing dad needed to fully rest and let go. Hearing this helped me, too: God knew just what dad needed, and treated him with mercy and humour before welcoming him home.

After I had a little more time to reflect and give my dad to God, I jokingly texted Carrine and Margaret: “Please do the same thing for me if I am ever in a situation like my dad: give me chicken-feet-coconut-soup! A few slurps of that will take me straight to Jesus.”

Thank you Abba God for being delicious. Thank you for ladybirds. Thank you for family around the world, and for the friends we choose to become family. Thank you that you are holding us all in your arms, no matter what we are going through. And thank you for Pu’er tea.