Beginning in early 1955, adult conversations in the family were hinting that my parents would soon be emigrating to Canada. It did not mean much at the time. One day, father packed his belongings into a suitcase. He looked at a pocket knife for a few seconds, then gave it to me. I didn't say anything, and bobbed my head slightly as a sign of thanks.
On the day of my parents departure, the whole family travelled by taxi to Kowloon Wharf. I was assigned to carry father's camera. For my grandparents, this was the last time they saw their son and daughter, a scene duplicated numerous times at home and Kowloon Wharf.
In those days, friends and family members were allowed to tour the ship. It was a crowded place like busy sidewalks on Nathan Road. People were walking around and then at that moment, I realized my parents were really leaving me behind. I started to cry, though for a short duration. This was the beginning of my sad years. Many children in my situation could cope with the change, it took me longer to adjust.
